Hero of Kvatch
by Morgan of Salerone
Summary: Sarasamacial, a woman birthed in ice, raised in shadow, and freed with fire–that is me. I've served champions and criminals, befriended sovereigns and beggars. Yet as dark falls and Tamriel founders, I fear. She calls for a hero, but I have never been one
1. No One Likes Your Fetid Breath

Thank you all for taking a look at "Hero of Kvatch"! Before we begin, there are a couple things you should know:

This fanfiction documents the events of the Oblivion Crisis through the eyes of Sarasamacial, a Bosmer with a red past who is trying to turn around her life. There are SPOILERS for the MAIN QUEST, THIEVES GUILD, FIGHTERS GUILD, and DARK BROTHERHOOD. I shout this at you only because I know how much I hate for endings to be spoiled for me (and I'm often a couple years behind the times, so I often come across spoilers), so I wanted to give you fair warning. When it comes down to it, you really shouldn't read this fanfiction if you want anything in pre-expansion packs Oblivion to be a surprise.

In any case, I've had (and am having) great fun writing this fic, so I hope you all enjoy!

(P.S. The first chapter is very short, but only because I couldn't find a better place to break it up. The following chapters are longer!)

* * *

They threw me in with rough hands. The cold stones of the cell rose up to bite me, and their hard bones forced the air from my lungs with a groan as my head cracked against them. I remained there, dazed, for a few moments until I heard the sound of the iron gate of the prison cell clang shut behind me and a wave of panic rushed through me. I quelled it and lifted my head, spitting out the blood from my wounded mouth as I began to rise.

"Stay quiet here, thief, and there'll be no trouble," said the Imperial just beyond the bars — my jailor — his voice thick with contempt. "They'll feed you before the day's out."

"Wait," I said around the blood. "I'm innocent." There was a disgusted huff, and then he turned and began to stride away with the sound of jangling keys and armoured footsteps. I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled to the bars. "Wait!" I cried again, grasping them with my calloused, delicate hands. "You have no right to put me in here! I'm innocent! _Innocent_!" My jailor did not reply. Brittle laughter rose up from the cell across from mine, and I tore my green, Bosmeri eyes from the retreating Imperial to set them on the Dunmer lounging against the far wall of his cage.

"Well now, a pretty little Wood Elf. You're a little far from the forest, huh?" His voice grated like rusted iron. "Looks like your days of woodland frolicking have come to a tragic end. To go from gladed realm of Valenwood to a rat-infested hole like this… how very sad."

He looked to me anything but sad, flashing me a yellow-toothed grin at which I scowled in return. I ignored him and looked to the bars beneath my hands, giving them a shake to ascertain their strength, more out of habit than actual hope. They rattled, but held firm. With a frustrated sigh, I turned away. The bleak, barrenness of the cell greeted me. The Dunmer laughed again.

Through the tiny, barred window on the far wall, sunlight streamed in brilliantly. It was late afternoon outside, but no later than the fourth hour — my capture and arrest had been pitifully brief. To my right, on the longer, eastern wall, there was set a rough wooden table with a clay pitcher and small mug, with a low stool to match. I stood at the top of two worn, uneven stairs. There was a pile of straw in the far right corner — for bedding or refuse I wasn't sure — and to my left, manacles bolted into the wall. In the dim light of the flickering torches outside my cell, they glistened dully with the rust coloured remains of old blood. There were bones beneath it. I swallowed, and then scowled at my fear.

"Those walls must feel like they're closing in on you, eh Wood Elf?" I glanced back at the Dunmer. He had his hands curled around the bars of his prison now, his face pressed up against the cold iron as he watched me.

"Shut your mouth, Dunmer," I said. "No one wants to smell your fetid breath."

He gave a cackle.

"Oh, I doubt you can smell me from there, Wood Elf, at least not over your own fear. Ever been in the Imperial Prison before?"

I sneered and turned away, lining the backs of my heels up against the bars of the gate.

"I make it a habit to avoid incarceration as much as possible," I replied. Despite my less than legitimate past, I _had_ managed to evade most of the prisons in Cyrodiil. Even when I had been marked for a cell, I'd been able to pay off the guards — or have one of my associates in the Thieves Guild do it for me. It was just my luck to be caught in the final act of giving up my shady lifestyle and thrown into prison when I had neither lockpicks nor Septims on my side.

Stepping forward from the gate, I counted off the paces it took to cross the room: ten. Ten paces. I repeated the process, only this time going across my cell. Five. A ten by five room to spend the rest of my life in. Theft, embezzlement, forgery, pickpocketing, counterfeiting, burglary, conspiracy to commit theft, grand larceny, tax evasion, slander, fraud, perfidy, and impertinence, those were my crimes. Alone, they would not be enough to sentence me for a lifetime, but coupled with my possession of the recognizable grey cowl of the Grey Fox and the Imperial Watch's suspicion of my involvement in illicit activities… if the Guild didn't come or couldn't get me out, it was indeed a small home and grave.

"I'm going to enjoy this. Watching you go mad, that is," the Dunmer said, breaking into my thoughts. I turned to look at him, my eyes narrowed in dislike. "Soon you'll be screaming and ranting and begging, and the guards will come and cut your throat just to get some peace and quiet." His voice began to rise. "You think you're safe in here? You think you'll ever get out? Wrong. You're going to die here, Wood Elf! Die!"

I stared at him a moment, willing my anger and annoyance to fall in check.

"I think we got off on the wrong foot, here," I said, offering a somewhat strained smile. "So let's start again. You stay quiet, and when I escape I don't take a detour to give you a second mouth like you think the guards will give me."

The Dunmer cackled.

"'When you escape', that's rich!" He gave another laugh. "You'll never escape the Imperial Prison. You're here for life." He paused to flash me his yellow toothed grin. "Although, one of the guards owes me a favour, you know. I could get us put in the same cell. A life in prison doesn't have to be such a bad thing. We could have some fun. And since you're in the business of giving people mouths…" He made a crude gesture towards his groin.

"Disgusting," I said, repulsed, and turned away from him. He continued to snigger away from behind his bars. I ignored him, giving the cell my attention once more. Nothing. With a sigh I moved to the table and settled myself on the stool, resigning myself to a long wait.

* * *

I stood in darkness, and he stared at me.

"You have failed again," he said, the corners of his lips turning up in a smile that never reached his eyes. "Were you always this negligent, dear Sister?"

"And what would you have me do?" I questioned in a voice thick with guilt and anger. I shuddered and struggled to hold down the growing lump in my throat. "I can't change what has happened. I can only live with it. There's no place for you in my life anymore. Stop haunting me."

The cruel smile on his face grew wider, and dark amusement flashed in his eyes as he took a step towards me. The black, hooded robes enshrouding him billowed around his feet, writhing and reaching for me like living things. I shrank away.

"You know what you must do," he said. "Sithis calls you, Aranwen. He calls for the blood of my murderers. Will you not give it to him, our dread father?"

"No," I answered. "I'm not Aranwen anymore. I have no father."

"You are no-one."

"Better to be no-one than a murderer."

"But you _are_ a murderer, No-One." The twisting shadows of his robes lunged for me, wrapping around my legs and forcing me to my knees. I cried out and broke my fall with my hands, realizing with horror that it wasn't his robes that gripped me, but cold, rotting fingers. Faces appeared beneath me, beneath the darkness that rippled like dark water, and I recognized them. How could I not? I'd murdered them at Water's Edge not long ago.

I sucked in a breath and tried to break free. _No, not this! I never wanted this!_

"Never kill anyone on the job. This isn't the Dark Brotherhood." I looked up at the robed man only to realize I had been wrong. The darkness covering his face was not a hood, but a cowl, his dark robes only shadowed leather armour.

"I didn't, I never wanted—"

"We are thieves," the man said forcibly, cutting me off. "But we're not murderers. Why kill them?"

I choked back a frustrated sob, struggling against my undead keepers as they coiled stinking fingers around my arms and bound me tighter still.

"Please," I begged as decaying arms encircled my waist. "Please believe me. I never wanted to. I never meant to!" More figures were rising from the darkness beneath me, all rotting, all staring at me accusingly out of dead eyes. "Please, Corvus. _Please_!" The mouth beneath the cowl frowned.

"I am not Corvus," it said, and then a hand lifted to remove the cowl. I gave a wail, cringing away, not wanting to see the face in front of me. It knelt down before me, took my chin in delicate fingers, and forced me to meet its eyes. My eyes. My face. The creature behind the mask was me.

"You can never escape me," the other me said, a cruel smile on her face, her eyes cold. "I am always with you, always waiting to finish the work you've deserted. There is no escape from the grasp of Sithis. One day you will learn this and find joy."

"No! Not again! Never!" I cried, despairing defiance rising within me.

"No?" The other me cocked her head to the side, studying me like a curious child. "Then what is this, I wonder?" She gestured to the bodies around me, and then they rose with cries like tearing metal and crashed down upon me, beating and biting and suffocating me, until all turned to black.


	2. Sign of the Thief

I awoke with a start, my eyes flashing from place to place as I tried to discern my situation. I bumped the table I sat at with my knee, nearly knocking the pitcher on it over and catching it only out of reflex. Memory returned: the Imperial Prison. I'd fallen asleep at the table, bored beyond endurance. The darkness had only been a nightmare. Not real.

I took in a breath and willed my body to relax, forcing my hands to stop itching to grasp the bow that was no longer there, confiscated by the Watch as it was. Voices, tense and quiet, drifted to me out of the darkness of the hallway. I frowned at the sound as I returned the pitcher to its place on the table, then lifted a hand and rubbed at my bleary eyes before rising to stumble to my cell door. I gripped the cold, iron bars with both hands and pressed my face pressed against them, but I could see nothing in the hallway. Across from me the Dunmer slept quietly in his cell. I wondered what time it was.

"Baurus! Lock that door behind us!" An authoritative, female voice commanded. My eyes strained in the gloom, trying to pick out the figures giving sound to the footsteps echoing along the passage.

"Yes, sir," a meeker, male voice replied.

"My sons… They're dead, aren't they?" A deep voice, full of despair, anguish. Majestic. I was moved by this voice, moved to pity. The sound of footsteps grew louder, as did the voices.

"We don't know that, Sire." My attention focused. _Sire_? What man of rank would be in the prison this late at night? "The messenger only said they were attacked."

"No, they're dead." The majestic voice again. "I know it."

"Sire…" The woman's voice. A pause. "My job right now is to get you to safety."

The speakers came into view, heading my way. There were four of them: two of the three men and the woman were heavily armed and armoured, and the last was an elderly man dressed in opulent robes. I released the bars and retreated to the back of my cell — I had no desire to attract the attention of those with weapons when I was without — but it was to little avail. They came to a stop before my cell, the woman's face tightening into a frown.

"What's this prisoner doing here?" she asked, turning angrily to one of her comrades — an Imperial. "This cell is supposed to be off-limits."

The Imperial shook his head and raised his hands as if to ward her anger off.

"Usual mix up with the Watch. I—"

"Never mind. Get that gate open." She turned her eyes on me, and in their depths I saw only hardened resolve, no pity. I would receive no leniency from her. "Stay back prisoner," she warned. "We won't hesitate to kill you if you get in our way." I nodded my understanding and raised my hands to show my compliance, my mind whizzing as I tried to decipher what was going on. The group entered the cell, Imperial first, the woman following after and then the man in the opulent robes. The remaining guardsman — a Redguard — closed the gate behind them, peering down the hallway one last time before he gave it a final shut.

"No sign of pursuit," he said.

"Good," the woman replied. "Let's go. We're not out of this yet."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I realized I was being watched by someone other than the Imperial who'd taken to guard me, and I turned my gaze to meet the eyes of the aged, robed man they escorted.

"You," he said softly. "I've seen you." Agitation gnawed at my stomach. I didn't like the situation. It was strange, unpredictable, and if this extravagant man knew of me then things were almost certainly going to become unpleasantly dangerous: most of the nobles who knew me were "business" acquaintances, and, as a Thieves Guild affiliate, it was safe to say that my unwilling patrons might be a little too violently happy to see me for my taste. That, and being singled out in a group of edgy, armed soldiers did little for my comfort, especially when it was obvious that their charge was in danger and that the danger was following him.

The man continued to frown at me.

"Let me see your face," he said, imperious and commanding. I tensed, fighting the reflex to flee, but he stepped closer before I could make a decision on what to do. His gaze caught mine, his blue, blue gaze, and I found myself unable to look away. He stared at me a moment more, and then a myriad of emotions passed over his face: surprise, anger, sorrow, relief, resignation, and, finally, resolve. "You are the one from my dreams," he said, as if to himself, although he continued to stare at me with his uncanny blue gaze. "Then the stars were right, and this is the day." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Gods give me strength."

I was utterly bewildered. _What in Oblivion is he talking about?_

"What's going on?" I asked, my eyes narrowing in distrust as I tried to make sense of the situation.

"Assassins attacked my sons, and I'm next," the man replied, looking at me again. "My Blades are leading me out of the city along a secret escape route. By chance, the entrance to that route leads through your cell." He said this as if it should make everything clear, but it was still murky as the gutters of Bravil to me. I glanced over at the wall to my right where the female guard stood anxiously. Something about the Blades tugged at my mind, but I couldn't pin it down, so I instead returned my attention to the man. I didn't recognize his face, and that worried me. I must have burgled every house worth burgling in the Imperial City — I was one of the best in the Thieves Guild in part because I thoroughly knew my targets, their habits, their faces — and, judging by the man's robes, he owned a house that was worth burgling seven times over. I didn't like having no name for him.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice low and cautious. The man seemed surprised by my question, but he composed himself quickly.

"I am your emperor, Uriel Septim," he replied.

I felt the blood drain from my face. _This can't be happening_. My mind ran through several possibilities, but could find no plausible reason as to why he would say such a thing if it weren't true, unless he were mad. _Why would his guards go through all this trouble, though, if that were simply the case?_ This was the Imperial Prison. People didn't just walk in and stage phoney escape attempts. Nor did I think the palpable tension in the air was of false manufacture. I would have to take his word as it was.

"Please, sire," the female guard pleaded. "We must keep moving." Uriel nodded his understanding.

"We will speak later," he said to me, and then moved to her side. She stepped forward and must have touched some hidden device on the wall, for a large section of it suddenly sprang to life and swung back to reveal a dark passageway. I tried not to stare stupidly. I had checked that wall thoroughly for weaknesses and such anomalies not hours ago, and found nothing.

"Better not close this one," the woman said. "There's no way to open it from the other side." The emperor nodded again and stepped through after her as she disappeared into the gloom. The Imperial watching me took a moment to light a torch before slipping in behind them, followed by the Redguard, who paused to give me one last look.

"Looks like this is your lucky day," he said grimly. "Just stay out of our way." He turned and stepped forward and was quickly swallowed by the darkness left by the receding torch. I stood in silence, still bewildered by the sudden, strange turn of events, and then spun around and stuck my tongue out at the prone form of the Dunmer in the opposite cell. Grabbing a splinter of bone from the pile beneath the manacles, I stole into the darkness of the passageway, green eyes flashing. Maybe my sign, the Thief, still looked down favourably after all.

The tunnel beyond the opening in the wall was short and led to an underground passage built of white stone and arched columns. It reminded me of the Ayleid ruin I'd traversed beneath the Imperial Palace nearly fifteen years ago when I had stolen the Elder Scroll from the Imperial library, and I wondered on how much of the city was built on such similar ruins. I had little time to think on it, however, as the echoing footsteps of the group only a little ways ahead warned me not to linger. I didn't relish the idea of following them, what with the danger and the lean tempers of the emperor's guards, but the passageway gave me little choice in the matter. I hovered just beyond the light of their torch, hoping that, if the emperor's passing invitation held and I did as the Redguard bade and remained inconspicuous, I would be tolerated.

After several minutes of tense, muted travel, the passage ballooned out into a wider chamber with closed gate at the far end. Above us, at maybe my height and a half, a ledge wide enough to support a person ran along the walls of the room, and, in the walls themselves, there were large, dark openings, easily of the size to hide a man or woman. I entered after everyone cautiously, the hair on the back of my neck prickling as I stared up at the openings. I thought I saw movement — minute, barely perceptible — and I reached for my bow, catching myself as I remembered it had been confiscated by the Watch along with all my other possessions. I glanced at the others to see if they had noted it — they had not. The woman was fumbling with the key to the gate, and the others must have been more night blinded by the torch than I — and then back at the opening, startled to see the dark figure of an armoured humanoid perched on the ledge, gazing down at them as it readied a mace in its right hand.

"To the left!" I shouted. The figure snapped its head in my direction, revealing a snarling, metal mask on its face, just as three other figures appeared out of the openings beside it. They dropped down from the ledge, each dressed in daedric looking armour and scarlet robes, and rushed at the emperor's group.

"Close up left!" the woman roared as she drew her sword. "Protect the emperor!" Emperor Uriel drew his own sword and stepped back as the two men placed themselves between the three of the attackers and him, and then the two sides met in a clash of steel, battle cries and grunts resounding throughout the chamber. The fourth attacker made for me, his mace raised high as he readied a strike. I gripped my shard of bone tighter and readied myself, throwing myself to the side when he brought the weapon down to bash in my head. I rolled and came to my feet, facing him. He turned around and struck at me again, and I stepped back to avoid the blow, feeling the breeze it created as it just missed my chin. I stepped back again as the mace came around for the backswing, and then ducked under his next strike, taking the opportunity to drive my bone shard into the unprotected side of his knee. It wasn't enough to do worthwhile damage, but it hurt him enough to slow his next attack. I rolled past him and came up behind him, preparing to strike at what I hoped would be the unprotected back of his neck, and saw beyond him the Redguard about to be flanked by an attacker sneaking up from behind. I threw the bone shard as hard as I could, catching the encroaching man in the head and halting him for just a moment.

"Redguard, behind you!" I shouted, and then my own opponent had recovered himself and struck out at me. It clipped my shoulder as tried to avoid it, and I cried out angrily. He swung again, and I ducked underneath his attack and threw my shoulder against him, staggering him. I grabbed his mace arm while he was off balance and brought my foot behind his and pulled it out from underneath him, causing him to fall to the ground. He didn't let go of the mace, though, and, with a feat of strength, wrenched his arm from my hands and struck wildly at me, missing. I retreated a step back, taking the moment he used to begin struggling to his feet to reach down into myself and gather my magic, feeling it flow down from my core to pool with a burning sensation in my fingertips. I threw my hands forward as he gained his feet, unleashing a fireball into his chest. He staggered back, and I conjured another one, throwing it at him with fierce rigour. He staggered again, dropping his mace, and then he stiffened as a bright, steel blade broke through his armour and burst from his chest. He hung there a moment, suspended, eyes staring down disbelieving, before the blade withdrew and he collapsed to the ground. The Redguard was behind him, his face grim, and he silently met my eyes and held them before sheathing his sword and turning to face the Imperial, who was kneeling at the side of the woman's prone form, his hand against her throat. All the other attackers were dead.

"Captain Renault?" the emperor asked, his voice somehow hopeful yet despairing. The Imperial hung his head.

"She's dead, Sire," he said. The Redguard began scanning the ground, and then stepped past the woman's body and bent down to pick up the key she had dropped when the battle began.

"I'm sorry, Sire," he said. "But we have to keep moving." He turned to put the key into the door, and the Imperial stood and put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"What about her?" he said in a low tone, nodding his head at me.

"What _about_ her?" the Redguard replied.

"For all we know she could be working with the assassins," the Imperial pointed out. "You saw her. She has magic just like them. And isn't it convenient she was in that cell just as we needed it?" His eyes turned to me, cold, suspicious, and I felt myself tense, readying for a confrontation. "And even if she isn't, she's a criminal. We can't trust her." The Redguard turned his eyes to me, uncertain. The Imperial took a step towards me and began to draw his sword.

"Enough, Glenroy." The emperor's voice reverberated through the room, deep and commanding. Glenroy looked over at Uriel, surprise etched on his face, as did I and Baurus. "She is not one of them. She can help us," he continued, his voice and expression calming. He turned his gaze to me, and it was both commanding and pleading. "She _must_ help us."

I wanted to refuse. I wanted to look away and say that I was only there to make my escape, but something in his gaze forced me to swallow the words. His belief, his need, made his request undeniable. It touched some part of me that wanted to be... more. Not a murderer. Not a thief. And there was... truth, in some way I couldn't understand. _You are the one from my dreams_. What did he mean?

"I can't guarantee that I can get us out of this alive," I said, slowly. _Stupid, stupid! Just save yourself!_ another part of me cried. "But what I can do, I will."

"This is a mistake, Sire," Glenroy argued. Uriel looked back at him, his face suddenly stern.

"It is my decision," he said with finality. Glenroy looked like he'd swallowed a lemon, but he bit back the retort he looked like he longed to give and nodded.

"As you wish, Sire," he said. The crisis dealt with, the Redguard faced the door again and turned the key, pushing the door open and allowing Glenroy to pass through first, blade half drawn, followed by the emperor. I went to the woman's side and began to disentangle the shortbow and quiver I'd seen on her back earlier. The Redguard noticed this and stared at me, frowning.

"We don't like those who steal from the dead," he said.

"I can use magic, but I'm not a mage," I said, still continuing to work. "I'll be a lot more use to you properly equipped." I glanced up at him. "I'm sorry, but she's dead. And now since I'm taking her place as one of the emperor's guards I don't think she'll mind all that much." I strapped the quiver over my shoulder and tested the bow's string, then set it aside and began to work the dagger off her belt. The Redguard remained silent as I worked.

"Her sword, too," he said after a moment, surprising me. I looked up. "We use the swords of the fallen to honour our dead. We shouldn't leave it for more of those bastards to get a hold of."

I nodded and set to removing the long, curved blade from the hip of the dead woman. When it was done, I lifted it to him.

"It seems important to you," I said. "You keep it. I'm not much good with a sword anyway." Despite my having been with the Fighters Guild of Cyrodiil for seven years already, my swordsmanship truly was pathetically poor. All my life I'd relied on my skills with a bow, falling back on daggers and hand-to-hand combat when it was absolutely necessary — it was only in the past few months that I'd even begun to study swordsmanship, and only at the insistence of my good friend and guild master, Modryn Oreyn.

The Redguard nodded and took the sword, thrusting it through his belt above his own blade. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't decipher as I rose, and then we turned to leave. Glenroy and Uriel were waiting for us just a little ways beyond the gate, Glenroy still scowling at me suspiciously, and the emperor watching with the deep, deep sorrow of his ordeal carved about his eyes and in the lines about his mouth. It made me feel for him. Rejoined, we set out as a group.

Our passage was swift and quiet. Our way took us through passages so small we could only walk single file and through others that were large, with the ceiling high above our heads and so open we couldn't feel anything but exposed. The air here was still and stale. Our feet stirred up clouds of dust that had lain undisturbed for who-knew-how-long and mingled with the acrid smoke of the torch to burn our eyes and thicken our tongues with thirst. No one spoke. Even the soft clink of rubbing buckles or armour plates moving against each other felt loud, and I found myself wincing at the slight sound and scanning the dark around us constantly for any sign of attack. Once or twice I thought I saw eyes flash in the dark, or movement follow us, but whether or not it was merely some creature slinking along in the night or something else, I couldn't discern. It didn't attack us, either way, but it made my skin crawled with the thought of it and I clenched my bow more tightly.

We had been travelling for some time when we entered a large room: open, exposed, but — perhaps because I was blinded by the torch — without any of visible the ledges or openings that had been in the room where we were first attacked. We stepped inside cautiously, and Uriel lost his balance on a loose stone underfoot. Glenroy caught his arm and steadied him, and I noticed then that the emperor was breathing heavily and had the sheen of sweat on his brow. It struck me then that Uriel was an old, old man. We had been travelling quickly, but not so quickly that a healthy man in his prime could not keep pace. The sheen on his brow betrayed him. His years were probably fewer than a century's, yet he was on the verge of death, even if he survived the assassins striving to kill him and this dark, arduous journey. The thought sobered me. He was so terribly young. I wanted to make him live, to take his frail, human life and make it more. I wanted him to survive.

"Please, a moment," he said, still breathing heavily. "I need a moment to catch my breath."

Glenroy and the Redguard looked at each other, but there was no denying Uriel needed rest.

"I'll start a perimeter," the Redguard said, drawing his sword and disappearing into the night. Glenroy helped Uriel sit down on a large chunk of debris that had fallen from one of the walls and then made to stand guard over him, but the emperor waved him away.

"Go with Baurus, Glenroy," he said. "The prisoner here will watch over me." Glenroy shot me a distrusting look, but did as the emperor bade, albeit grudgingly. "Come closer," Uriel said, motioning me nearer. "I prefer not to have to shout." I obeyed, unsure of what he wanted of me. "He cannot understand why I trust you," he said when I stood near, gazing out into the darkness at Glenroy's dim form. "But he has not seen what I've seen." I waited for him to continue, but the emperor said nothing more.

"And... what is it that you have seen, Sire?" I asked, my voice pitched low so as not to carry in the quiet of the chamber. Uriel hesitated, searching for the words.

"Do you know the Nine? How They guide our fates with an invisible hand?" I frowned a little, but nodded nonetheless. Although I didn't think he would count Sithis as a god – not that I followed Sithis any more – the Lord of Night was the "deity" to whom I had ever been the closest. Yet despite what that said about my relationship with the Nine, I knew of them, and their tales. "I've served the Nine all my days, and I chart my course by the cycles of the heavens," Uriel continued. "The skies are marked with numberless sparks, each a fire, and every one a sign. I know these stars well, and the signs I read in them show the end of my path. My death, a necessary end, will come when it will come."

His words gave me pause. It is something to hear another speak of the death they have seen for themselves. _You are the one from my dreams_. I felt cold settle in my stomach.

"Will I die down here as well? Will we all die down here?" I asked quietly.

"By which sign were you born?" he questioned by way of reply.

I paused.

"The Thief."

The emperor nodded, as if something he already knew had been confirmed.

"Your stars are not mine," he said. "Today the Thief shall guide your steps on the road to destiny. My dreams grant me no opinions of success – their compass ventures not beyond the doors of death – but in your face I behold the sun's companion. The dawn of Akatosh's bright glory may yet banish the coming darkness. With such hope, and with the promises of your aid, my heart must be satisfied."

_Is that supposed to make sense?_

"I said I would help, Sire, but I don't understand what you mean."

"I go to my grave," Uriel said in a voice that chilled my blood. "A tongue shriller than all the music calls me. You shall follow me yet for a while, and then we must part. That is all I know, and I cannot speak it more plainly."

"But what is all this about Akatosh's glory and the coming darkness? What does that mean? What do you want me to do?"

Uriel turned his eyes on me, a slight, sardonic smile on his lips.

"Find him… and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

I stared at him, confused, and then there was a cry from Glenroy.

"Assassins!"

I drew an arrow and readied it within a matter of a second, and Uriel rose and drew his sword as the sound of battle reached us from our right. An assassin came within the light of the torch left on the ground by our feet, and I raised my bow and took aim, firing the arrow at the little eye slit in the attacker's mask. My aim was off, however, with the bow unfamiliar to me, and the arrow bounced off the mask. The assassin reeled, and I readied another arrow. When he face me again, I was ready. My aim didn't miss the second time. As he collapsed with an arrow in his eye, another assassin appeared behind him, and I fired again. The assassin jerked his hand and threw up a magical barrier, and the arrow slowed and bent from its course when it was about to strike. The assassin made directly for Uriel. I drew another arrow and aimed it at the assassin's leg, loosing it after a brief half-moment. It struck and the assassin staggered, dropping his mace as he clutched at the wounded part. I readied another arrow and struck him in the chest, then again and again for good measure as he toppled over. Baurus came bursting out of the darkness after him, sword raised to strike, but he stopped when he realized there was no one near the emperor to attack. Glenroy appeared the moment after, also looking surprised.

"I told you I was no mage," I said, a half-smile on my lips as I saw Baurus' eyes settle on the man with an arrow in his eye.

"I see that now," he replied. Glenroy simply stared at me suspiciously for a moment before turning to Baurus.

"We've been lucky, but if we keep moving those assassins are going to get the drop on us," he said. "We should find a defensible spot and protect the Emperor until help arrives."

"Help? What makes you think help will get here before more of those bastards?" Baurus replied, his face contorted in a scowl.

"If we can find a good position, we won't need help to arrive before them. This… elf seems to have a good handle on the bow. Between the three of us we could keep them off for some time."

"We don't know how many there are. If we settle on one position, they could swarm us," Baurus argued.

"There's also the difficulty of me having limited arrows," I said. "I don't know how long they'll last if we're constantly holding off enemies. I'm not prepared for a siege."

"Does anybody even know we're down here?" Baurus added. Glenroy gave a sigh.

"Sire," he said with resignation in his voice, turning to Uriel. "Are you ready to move on now?"

The emperor moved his gaze from me — I hadn't noticed he'd been watching — and nodded.

"Yes. Let us continue on."

And so we went. There were assassins waiting for us in the next two chambers, but we defeated them without too much trouble. Still, my anxiety rose with each attack. Our position was known; it was only a matter of time until we were overwhelmed, even if we kept moving or stayed in one spot. From the looks on their faces, Baurus and Glenroy knew it too.

After passing through a winding tunnel only big enough for us to walk single file, we came out into a small chamber that ended in a rusted gate, similar to the one where we were attacked by the first assassins.

"This is it. We're almost through the sewers," Glenroy said, stepping towards the door. "Just through this gate, and––" Although he pushed, the gate remained immobile. Baurus whirled around and drew his sword, readying for an attack. "Dammit," Glenroy cursed under his breath. "The gate is barred from the other side. A trap!"

"What about that side passage we passed in the tunnel?" Baurus offered.

"Worth a try," Glenroy admitted. "Let's go!" As we turned I met Uriel's eyes, and I didn't like what I saw there. His face was calm, compliant. He needn't to be so… accepting. _Your life is worth fighting for,_ I wanted to say, but he was the emperor. It wasn't my place to say anything.

Cautiously we made our way back to the side passage, Baurus now in the lead. After a few steps it opened up into a regular sized passage large enough for us to walk side by side. The light from the torch Baurus held flickered eerily on the walls, and I kept starting at the shadows. After a few feet the passage opened up into a small chamber, then shrank into another passageway before opening up again into a midsized chamber. As we entered, I felt my stomach sink and bile rose to the back of my throat.

"It's a dead end," Baurus said. We all stared at the blank wall before us, at the ledges about my height and a half above us, with openings in the walls above us large enough to admit a person. It was just like the room where Renault had died. Baurus turned back to Glenroy. "What's your call, sir?"

"I don't know," the other replied wearily. "I don't see any good options here. We could try—"

"They're behind us!" Baurus cried, cutting him off. I whirled around, readying an arrow as the three men drew their swords. An assassin appeared in the doorway, and Glenroy charged him and forced him back with a roar, disappearing into the gloom.

"Wait here with the Emperor," Baurus told me. "Guard him with your life." Then he drew himself up and dashed after Glenroy, sword flashing in the torchlight.

I watched him go, my bow ready to fire the instant an assassin showed his face through in the chamber's entrance.

"Sarasamacial, I can go no further."

I glanced back at Uriel, taken aback and confused by his use of my name.

"How do you know my––?"

"You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants," he said, cutting me off as he stepped closer. "He must not have the Amulet of Kings!" His eyes gazed bright into mine with fierce determination, even as he lifted his aged hands to undo the clasp of the heavy, red-gemmed amulet about his neck. "Take the Amulet," he said, taking my hand from the bowstring and pressing the amulet into it. My arrow fell to the floor. "Give it to Jauffre," Uriel continued. I tried to slip the amulet about my neck for safekeeping but it came loose — even though I was sure I hadn't undone the clasp — so I tucked it into the waistband of my prisoner's garb instead. "He alone knows where to find my last son. Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

"You said that before. But what do you––?" I never had a chance to finish my question. One moment we were alone, the next an assassin was behind him, blade poised to strike. "Look out!" I cried, trying to push him out of the way, but it was too late. Uriel had but a moment to contemplate defending himself, but a moment where he began to glance back at my warning, and then his arm was wrenched back and a bright blade nestled against his throat. The assassin's snarling mask hovered over his shoulder, taunting me. I froze, my mind racing to find some way to free Uriel.

"Stranger," the assassin said, his blade pressing hard enough against the emperor's throat to produce a trickle of blood. "You chose a bad day to take up with the cause of the Septims."

"No! Stop!" I said, and then he drew his blade across the emperor's throat. I drew an arrow, a snarl of fury on my lips as the assassin pushed Uriel's body away and charged me. I dodged his first swing and stepped back, trying to gain myself enough room to shoot, but the assassin saw what I was doing and pressed the attack. Gritting my teeth, I dodged back again, dropping my bow as he swung for my hands, unable to strike back. The assassin laughed, confident in his victory. He began manoeuvring me towards the wall of the chamber, and though I saw, I couldn't do anything about it. I was running out of time.

With a desperation I had never known, I began to form a spell in my mind, pleading with whatever god that I could do both that and evade his strikes at the same time. Power sizzled under my fingertips. I threw up my hand and let a fireball fly right into the assassin's face as he was about to strike. I hadn't even had time to conjure up the full force of the petty spell, but it was enough to surprise him. He staggered back, and with a quick motion I drew my dagger and lunged for him. He managed to bat aside my arm, but with a flick of my wrist I tossed the dagger under our arms and caught it with my left hand. Before he could react, I drove the dagger deep into his throat. I pulled it out and stepped back, and he staggered, a great, red gout of blood gushing from his ruined neck and spraying me. He raised his hands to his throat, and then slowly collapsed to one knee before completely crumbling to the ground. I stood over him for a moment, breathing heavily, before turning, picking up my bow, and going to Uriel's side. He was dead. I hadn't expected different, but some part of me had hoped.

Baurus barrelled into the room, winded and covered in blood. His eyes settled on me, bloodstained and kneeling over the emperor's still body, and lit with fury.

"You!" he growled, and gripped his sword harder.

"No! Look!" I shouted, pointing at the assassin's dead form a few feet away. He glanced over at the man, and then looked back at me, hard, trying to judge the situation. "I didn't kill the emperor," I told him. "The assassin dropped down from one of those openings. He got to him before I could do anything, and he almost got me."

Baurus stared at me a moment longer, and then went to the assassin's body.

"Look at his sword," I said. "It will have blood on it, but I was never cut. Check me if you want. I didn't kill the emperor."

Baurus looked at the sword as I had suggested, and then came and stood over me, surveying my appearance, his sword still held in his hand. After a moment, his face collapsed into a look of grief, and he turned to the emperor's body and fell to his knees beside it.

"Talos save us," he murmured in a broken voice. "We failed. _I _failed." I gazed down at Uriel, who, despite the bloody gash in his neck, looked calm and peaceful. _Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion_. So still, so quiet. I had seen death before many times, but somehow Uriel's lifeless body still filled me with a sense of regret and loss. I looked over at Baurus. His brown eyes moved to meet mine briefly, defeated. "The Blades are sword to protect the Emperor, and now he and all his heirs are dead," he said. His gaze dropped to Uriel's ruined throat, bare in the fluttering light of the fallen torch. He stiffened. "The Amulet," he said, anxious. "Where is the Amulet of Kings?" He began to search frantically. I put a hand on his arm.

"He gave it to me," I said, pulling it from my waist. "It's here." Baurus' eyes rose from the emperor, coming to rest on the Amulet of Kings in my hand. I watched his expression, expecting him to demand I give it to him, but he only stared at it, his expression slowly fading from anxiety to contemplation.

"Strange," he said. "He saw something in you. Trusted you." I glanced down at the body near my feet. _You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants._ Baurus turned back to the body, reached up, and closed the emperor's eyes. Then he stood. "The Amulet has power," he said. "Only a true heir of the Blood can wear it, they say. He must have given it to you for a reason. Did he say why?"

I rose and met his gaze.

"He said to take it to Jauffre," I said. Baurus looked surprised.

"Jauffre? He said that? Why?"

I shrugged, looking down at the emperor again.

"There is another heir."

He frowned.

"Nothing I ever heard about," he said, rubbing a hand over his face. "But Jauffre would be the one to know. He's the Grandmaster of my Order, although you may not think to meet him. He lives quietly as a monk at Weynon Priory, near the city of Chorrol."

I frowned and lifted my gaze to his.

"Are you suggesting _I_ take the Amulet to Jauffre?" I asked. Baurus shrugged.

"The emperor trusted you. Don't know why I shouldn't."

"You don't even know me," I said. "I could be some petty criminal who'd happily sell the Amulet as junk!"

"Will you?"

I blinked at him, taken aback.

"Well, no, but–!" He stared at me calmly while protestations lingered unspoken on my tongue. I looked away and sighed, relenting. "Weynon Priory, you said?"

"You know the way?"

"Once I get out of here, yes."

"Then take this." I looked back at the Blade and took the key he offered. "Find your way to the sewers," he said. "That's where we were heading. It's a secret way out of the Imperial City. Or it was _supposed_ to be secret, anyway. That key will let you through the last door."

I nodded.

"Understood," I said. I paused. "I... assume you won't be accompanying me?"

Baurus shook his head.

"No. I'll stay here to guard the Emperor's body until help arrives, and make sure no one follows you. It's... the least I can do to honour his memory."

We both glanced over at the still emperor.

"This isn't the end," I said. "We'll make whoever did this pay." Baurus didn't reply. "Good luck to you then," I added. I made to go.

"Wait," he said. I stopped and faced him. "I don't even know your name."

I studied him for a moment.

"Sarasamacial," I told him. " Of the Fighters Guild. And you're Baurus, yes?"

He nodded.

"Yeah. That's me. Talos guide you. You might need it."

"And you."

I turned my back to him and stepped away, heading the way we had come. By the time I had found my way to and through the sewers and pushed back the grating of the final door, it was full light outside. I shielded my eyes from the sun; after the dark of the ruins and sewers, it was hard to look without squinting. It almost made it seem like what had happened in the prison was a dream, a dark dream. _You are the one from my dreams. _I shook my head to dispel the memory. My stomach rumbled unhappily, reminding me that, emperor's command or no, I hadn't eaten since yesterday afternoon.

"Alright," I said, drawing my dagger. "Let's see if we can't find something to eat."

From the water's edge not far away, a mud crab snapped its claws at me. The Thief really was still with me. I smiled.

Breakfast.


	3. Of Masters and Grandmasters

I had a horse, Shadowmere, stabled at the Imperial City stables, and, replacing my prisoner's garb with a set of clothing I stole from the inn at Weye, recovered her quickly and set out for Weynon Priory. I had a home in the Imperial City as well, but my arms and armour had been confiscated by the Watch and wouldn't be there anyway, and the gold I had sewn into Shadowmere's saddle would be enough to sustain me should I need it. I didn't fancy getting caught again by showing my face in the city too soon. Too much risk. I wasn't at my wits' best either considering I'd spent most of the previous night awake, so, once I was away from the city, I found a safe place off the road and had myself a much needed few hours of rest. Fortunately, and in spite of this, I was able to spy the priory in sight just before the sun was beginning to set.

The road Shadowmere and I travelled climbed a slight hill leading towards the priory, and then split into two, one veering away to the left, to Chorrol, and the other passing through the priory grounds. Through the trees, the tops of the priory buildings were touched with orange in the sun's slowly dying light, at least what I could see of them. As I rode, I touched the Amulet of Kings through the cloth of a pouch at my waist for reassurance – it wouldn't do to have it go missing. My thoughts flickered back to what had happened over that past day. It would be strange when this was all over. I would give the Amulet to Jauffre, whoever he was, he would take it to Uriel's bastard heir, and Cyrodiil would return to normal. Uriel, his sons, and his Blades' deaths would be reduced to a simple mark on a paper and perhaps a topic of conversation. No one would remember me. I was only the messenger, caught up in events bigger than her.

And yet, I had spoken to the emperor himself and carried the sacred Amulet of Kings. It was more than most of Tamriel could say. I wondered briefly if my part in the tale would get me out of any potential future jail time, and then discarded the idea as unlikely. Unless Baurus testified, no one would believe me. Well, Modryn might, but he'd throw a fit when he heard. I smiled at the thought of my Dunmer friend. Perhaps if this business concluded swiftly, I could make it to Chorrol before they closed the gates. It would be good to see him again. He might even have work for me.

As I crested the hill, the priory grounds opened up before me. There was a low house to one side and a small chapel to the other, with the main building nestled between them behind a well and arching over the dirt road that split its grounds. Through the arch of the centre building I could see the stables. There weren't any markings I could see to indicate what the low house and main building were, so, when I reached the grounds, I dismounted and paused by the well, trying to judge where Jauffre would be. Baurus had said he wouldn't look like the Grandmaster of the Blades, but other than that had given me no description. I didn't matter. I had worked on less before. The name, for instance, was enough to narrow down his race. Jauffre was a Breton name. Which made the silver-haired Dunmer rounding the corner of the main building an unlikely – but potentially helpful – candidate.

"Excuse me," I called out, and he stopped and looked at me, a question in his eyes. I closed the distance between us, Shadowmere following obediently. "I have a message for a man named Jauffre," I said as I neared. "I was given his name but not his description, I'm afraid. Could you show me to him?"

"Oh, well, if he's not sleeping or eating, he'll be fussing over his books, I reckon, over in Priory House," the Dunmer said. He gestured to the main building in front of us. "I'd show you myself, but I've got a bit of work to do before the sun sets. Just look for the older Breton man if Prior Maborel isn't there to take you to him."

"Ah, my thanks." I gave him a polite smile. "And you are...? I didn't catch your name."

"Eroner," he replied. "I'm the shepherd here."

"A pleasure then. Good fortune with your work."

He stepped away and I moved to the door of the Priory House. Breton, indeed.

The House itself was built of cold, grey stone, but it was warmed by the merry fire burning in the hearth to my left. There was a table before it with two monks eating, and, as I entered, one of them rose and approached me.

"I am Prior Maborel. Is there something I can help you with?" Although the Prior's tone was cordial, his warmth of his greeting was belied by the scowl on his face. I wondered briefly if all the monks here were secretly Blades, like Jauffre, like Baurus. I shifted a little so I could reach my bow easier, just in case. I didn't fully trust them to trust me.

"I have a message for Jauffre. Could you tell me where he is?" I asked. The Prior's frown eased a little.

"He's upstairs," he said, pointing. "Go ahead." I ducked my head in polite deference and followed the directions laid out by his arm, climbing the stairs at the back of the room. He watched as I went. At the top of the stairs I turned right, stepping onto a landing that held several bookcases, a chest, and an older Breton man studying a heavy tome behind a solid, wooden desk. I approached slowly so as not to startle him.

"Excuse me," I asked in my best Tamrielic. "Are you Jauffre?" The man looked up, frowning.

"Yes, I'm Brother Jauffre," he said. "What do you want?" I took a deep breath and took the Amulet of Kings from my waist pouch, striding across the room to place it carefully on the desk before him.

"The emperor told me to bring this to you."

Jauffre frowned further and shut his tome, placing it somewhere by his feet out of sight. Then he leaned forward and lifted the Amulet from the desk to inspect it further.

"Is this...?" he said, and then he raised steely eyes to meet mine. "You'd better explain yourself. Now."

I nodded my chin at the Amulet, my own expression stony.

"That is the Amulet of Kings, given to me by Emperor Uriel. He is dead, slain by assassins in the hidden passages below the Imperial Prison."

Jauffre lowered the Amulet, and gestured to the chair set against the nearby wall.

"Sit," he said. "And tell me everything you know."

It took some time to relate everything that had happened – the jail cell, my first meeting with Uriel, Captain Renault's death, Glenroy, Baurus, the assassins – but when I had, Jauffre sat in silence, thinking it all over.

"As unlikely as your story sounds," he said eventually, "I believe you. Only the strange destiny of Uriel Septim could have brought you to me carrying the Amulet of Kings." He shook his head in confounded amazement. I was quiet for a moment longer, but something the emperor had said nagged at the back of my mind.

"Who is the Prince of Destruction?" I asked. "What did the emperor mean by 'close shut the jaws of Oblivion'?"

The Grandmaster shook his head.

"His meaning is unclear to me as well. The Prince of Destruction he referred to is none other than Mehrunes Dagon, one of the lords of the demonic realm of Oblivion. It is clear the emperor perceived some threat from Oblivion, but all the scholars agree that the mortal world is protected from the daedra by magical barriers."

"So how could Mehrunes Dagon be a threat then?"

"I'm not sure," Jauffre replied. "The Amulet of Kings is ancient. Saint Alessia herself received it from the gods – it is a holy relic of great power. When an emperor is crowned, he uses it to light the Dragonfires at the Temple of the One in the Imperial City, but only the emperors truly understand the meaning of the rituals of coronation. With the Emperor dead and no new heir crowned, the Dragonfires in the Temple will be dark for the first time in centuries. It may be that the Dragonfires protected us from a threat that only the Emperor was aware of."

I sighed and leaned back in my chair.

"So you need to find Uriel's bastard heir then, don't you?" I said. "Will he even know anything?"

Jauffre shook his head.

"It may not even be that he needs to know. Merely being of the Septim blood may be enough to undo what has been done. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get my men organized. Prior Maborel will reward you for your efforts, and I trust your discretion in this delicate matter. If anyone finds out about the heir, he could be dead before we get to him, and then everything will be truly lost." He rose and picked up the Amulet, placing it in a pocket at his waist before beginning to make his way past me. I stared at the spot where it had been a moment before, my inner thoughts in turmoil. _You're just the messenger, Sarasamacial,_ I told myself. _Take your reward and go. This isn't your problem to deal with. You're not... fit for it. _The memory of my nightmare in the prison cell flashed before me, my old self taunting me and the dead fingers of those I'd murdered grasping at my limbs. No, I wasn't fit to serve.

_You alone must stand against the Prince of Destruction and his mortal servants._

A newly reformed ex-thief trying to get over a bad hist run and her own traumatic nightmares didn't make a good candidate for world saving, especially not an ex-thief with a history such as mine.

_But in your face I behold the sun's companion._

Uriel hadn't even know me. He hadn't know what I'd done. If he did, he'd have never...

_You are the one from my dreams._

And it didn't matter if he knew. He was old, grief stricken. He couldn't have been thinking straight when he said I could help. When he said I _had_ to help.

_With such hope, and with the promises of your aid, my heart must be satisfied._

And yet, I wanted... If I saved others, then maybe I...

"Jauffre."

The Breton paused at the top of the stairs, his questioning gaze turned to me. I rose and faced him.

"Where can I find Uriel's heir?" I asked. Oblivion take it, you stupid s'wit, part of me admonished. You'll only ruin it if you get involved. Look at Uriel!

He frowned.

"His whereabouts aren't your concern," he said. "The fewer who know who and where he is the safer he'll be until this is all over."

"I want to help. I can be of use to you."

"Your offer is appreciated, but this is a matter for the Blades––"

"That isn't true."

Jauffre scowled at me. I drew in a breath and hardened my resolve.

"If Mehrunes Dagon is the threat you think he is, than this is a matter for all of Tamriel, not just the Blades," I argued. "I am Sarasamacial, Champion of the Fighters Guild of Cyrodiil. I know what it's like to command a force that doesn't have enough men. And I'm not saying that this is the case with the Blades, but surely it will take time to alert and debrief another on the situation, yes? I'm here, and I'm available now." I paused, glancing away for one moment as I reflected on the words I was about to speak. "Besides, the emperor asked it of me."

Jauffre was quiet a moment as he thought on what I said, although the scowl that had marred his aged features had disappeared.

"What you say is true," he said slowly, moving closer as he did so. "And if you are who you say you are, then I have heard tale of you skills in dealing with the Blackwood Company. You are a warrior to be feared."

"So I like to think," I said softly, inwardly cringing from his words. The echoes of my nightmare haunted me. Innocent blood on my hands.

With sudden decision, Jauffre walked past me and to the chest near his desk.

"Uriel's heir serves Akatosh in the Chapel in the city of Kvatch, south of here," he said, his voice firm with resolve and command. "His name is Martin. If the enemy is aware of his existence, as seems likely, he is in terrible danger. You will go to Kvatch and find him at once." He faced me. "Baurus trusted you. The Emperor trusted you... it seems I have no reason I should not." He withdrew a silver key from inside his robes, bent, and unlocked the chest. Rising, he turned to me again. "My resources here are limited, but I will help in any way I can." He gestured to the chest. "Help yourself to whatever you need. Now, excuse me, I must attend to my Blades."

"Thank you, Jauffre."

"May Talos guide you, Sarasamacial." He walked past me. I watched him go, his silvered, tonsured head disappearing down the stairs. When I could no longer see him, I turned to the chest and outfitted myself with studded leathers that thankfully fit my form fairly well, restocked my arrows, and helped myself to several potions.

When I went to take my leave, however, I was stopped by Brother Piner.

"You're going into danger, aren't you?" he said. "Jauffre didn't tell us any more than that, but know that our prayers go with you." He looked down, as if a little embarrassed, and offered me a small bundle he held in his hands. "It may not help much, but I want you to have this. It's from my days when I trained as a Blade." I accepted the bundle, and carefully undid the knot at the top that kept it together. The cloth fell back, revealing a whetstone and oiling kit. I smiled at him and closed it up.

"Thank you," I said. "I'm sure I'll have great use for it."

"I'm glad. Talos guide you," he said.

"And you."

* * *

The gates to Chorrol were just closing as I ran up from the stables. Fortunately for me, it was Astius Phillian doing the closing, an old friend from my early Fighter's Guild days. He smiled and waved, and I called a breathless 'thanks' as I slowed to a stop beside him.

"Getting a little out of shape," he teased, and I smiled at his cheeky tone as I caught my breath. "I remember a time when you boasted of running from Chorrol to Cheydinhal without rest." I grinned up at him as I straightened, my breath returning.

"I think that was the same time I claimed I could jump to the moon, but Modryn grabbed me and pulled me off the table to stop my attempt. I remember because he spilt my mead."

Astius gave a laugh.

"Always getting into trouble, aren't you?" He sobered a little, his blue eyes watching me from under the rim of his helmet. "How is Oreyn doing, by the way? I haven't seen much of him off shift lately."

"The guild keeps him busy," I replied. "We're still recovering from that run in with the Blackwood Company. Recruiting is low. Pay is even lower. The only thing that's improved is our reputation. "

"Damn Argonians and their hist," he said with a shake of his head. "Well, when you see him, give him my regards. Tell him to go get a drink."

"I will," I replied with a laugh. "Thanks for letting me in."

The first thing I saw as I entered the town proper was the statue of the dying soldier and the healer. At least, that was what I'd always thought of it as. It didn't quite seem a good omen considering my task, but I ignored the thought and headed past it, following the streets I knew so very well. It took me only a few minutes to cross the city, and soon I was heading up the steps to the Fighter's Guild, the heavy, wooden handle of the door under my hand.

The sights and smells of the Chorrol Fighter's Guild hall were some of the most memorable in all my forty-odd years of life, and I sighed in contentment as I fell over me. Turning, I nimbly hopped up the stairs, nodding in acknowledgement to the porter who saluted me as I passed. As I neared the guild master's floor a familiar muttering and cursing filled my ears, and I smiled.

"Shouldn't you be home by now?" I said teasingly to the dark blue head bent over a pile of manuscripts. The head in question lifted, revealing an angry scowl I knew too well. Ah, Modryn Oreyn. He never changed. Part of why I loved the man.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. He put down his quill angrily. "What in the blazes took you so long? We had word that your contract has been filled for over a week!"

"Sorry," I said with a nonchalant shrug. "I got a little tied up in the Imperial City." I settled myself on the edge of his desk while my friend glowered. "Things are bad, Modryn."

He leaned back a little, the fury on his face dissipating by a degree.

"How bad?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "Not the Blackwood Company or something again, is it?"

I shook my head.

"Worse. The Emperor is dead. So are his heirs." Shock registered briefly on his face.

"What do you mean, 'dead'?"

"'Dead' as in he isn't going to rule any time soon, and his sons aren't going to do it, either. I don't know when word of this will get out, but as of this morning we've been officially ruled by the Elder Council."

Modryn pushed himself back from the desk and rose. He began to pace in front of me.

"How do you know this?" he asked. "You said it happened this morning… barely anyone would have heard of it by now. It's not something the Council would want known until they'd had a chance to deal with it."

I sighed and steeled myself.

"I was there, Modryn. I watched the Emperor die." He stopped his pacing, and stared at me.

"You _what_?"

So I told him. Much as I had with Jauffre, I explained my imprisonment, the hidden passage, our separation, our reunion, of the attacks, and, finally, of Uriel's death. I left out the Amulet, however, and Martin. I had learned long ago the cold, cruel lesson of ill placed trust. Modryn was the closest thing I had to family and a dearest friend, but some things were wiser not to speak of. Besides, the less he knew, the less of a threat he was, and the less likely he was to be a target for any future assassinations.

During my account, Modryn had returned to his chair, and now sat there with his chin resting on his hands and a look of disbelief on his face.

"I don't know what to think, Sara," he said slowly. "Are you in any danger?"

I shook my head.

"I don't believe so. Any of the assassins who might have seen my face were slain. Baurus told me to see the head of the Blades to pass on the Emperor's final words, but other than that I've no association with them."

"Good. Keep it that way. You've always had a knack for getting yourself into trouble."

I smiled wistfully at my friend. If only he knew. How I wished I could take him on my merry adventure.

I rose swiftly.

"I'm going to Kvatch tomorrow," I announced casually as I settled my bow more comfortably. "I'll be leaving at first light."

"Kvatch?" Modryn questioned. "Did Burz gro-Khash give you a contract I'm unaware of?"

"No, not Burz. Personal business."

Modryn frowned at me, but he could find no reason to tell me no. I had, after all, earned any time off I desired. I was the guild's shining star.

"All right," he grudgingly agreed. His face unexpectedly softened, and I saw the weight of his many years in the faint, faint lines of his face. "Just come back safe, will you? With the Emperor dead, who knows what will happen."

I nodded and touched his shoulder fondly.

"I will. Don't worry."

He offered me a bed at his home as we made our way down the stairs, allowing me the chance to avoid sleeping in the common room with all our other guild-mates, but I turned him down. I didn't mind sharing spaces with my comrades, even if my rank entitled me to more luxurious accommodations. Regardless if I had said yes, however, I would have spent the entire night feeling guilty. Modryn only had one bed, and that meant giving it to me if I accepted. No protestations on my part would be able to change his mind on that, either, and I didn't like the thought of my friend sleeping on the floor of his own home. It was my hope that with his new position in the guild he might soon be able to afford a few extra comforts. He deserved them.

I bade my friend good night, and settled myself in one of the empty cots on the second floor of the guild hall, near a window. I wanted to make sure the sunlight would wake me if my own internal clock failed. Snuggling into the thin blankets, I slept. It would be a long journey tomorrow.


	4. Septim

The next day dawned bright and clear. I was one of the first to rise. After my quick meal of bread and cheese, I loaded myself up with my equipment – I took a set of poisons and lockpicks I'd hidden in one of the chest's bottoms and a short-sword on a whim – and set out. I decided to go cross country, as the roads would have taken me back to the Imperial City and through Skingrad before reaching Kvatch. It would be a bit of a hard trek because of it, but Shadowmere was well rested and it would cut a day and a half off my travel. I left Chorrol in high spirits.

The way was mostly uneventful. The residents of Hackdirt were even more unpleasant than usual, I fended off a trio of bandits near Fort Dirich, and it rained unceasingly from the noon hour until the fourth, but other than that it was mostly silence and my thoughts. Fortunately, by the time I hit the road just below the switchback trail that lead up to Kvatch that evening my equipment and I had dried out, but it was a dark evening with heavy clouds and the rumble of thunder not far off, and I didn't hold out much hope for staying dry for much longer. As I approached the city, I noticed what looked like smoke rising from where the city should have been (I could not see it for the trees), and frowned. It could have been just low-lying cloud, but…

I rounded a corner in the switchback trail, and the sight of a refugee camp met my eyes. A few tents were set up, and people rushed anxiously to and fro or sat morosely staring at the ground, shock and grief on their faces. I dismounted and stared, frowning, as I approached on foot, Shadowmere behind me. _What in Oblivion has happened here?_

"Come on! Run while there's still time!" An Altmer male appeared among the refugees, pulling on clothing and making a general ruckus. "The Guard still holds the road, but it's only a matter of time before they're overwhelmed!" The people around him didn't seem to take notice.

"What's going on?" I said as I approached. "What's happened here?"

The Altmer stared at me with wide eyes, his mouth falling a little agape.

"Gods' blood," he said. "You don't know, do you? Daedra overran Kvatch last night! There were glowing portals outside the walls! Gates to Oblivion itself!" His voice, which had been steadily rising in volume and terror, suddenly dropped. His eyes flitted about as if he could still see whatever nightmare was tormenting him. "There was a huge creature, something out of a nightmare… came right over the walls blasting fire. They swarmed around it, killing…" He trailed off, covering his face with golden hands as a choked sob escaped him. _Daedra? Oblivion gates? What in all the…?_

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, start over again. Are you saying _daedra_ attacked the city?" In a terrifying way, it made sense. _Close shut the jaws of Oblivion._ If this was the threat Emperor Uriel had foreseen…

"Go and see for yourself," the Altmer spat, lifting his head from his hands. "Kvatch is a smoking ruin! We're all that's left, do you understand me? Everyone else is dead!" That couldn't be. Martin was supposed to be here. If he wasn't with the refugees…

I looked the Altmer hard in the eye.

"If you escaped there could be others," I said. "How did you do it?" He seemed to deflate right before me.

"It was… It was Savlian Matius. Some of the other guards helped some of us escape. They cut their way out, right through the city gates. Savlian says they can hold the road. No, no… I don't believe him." He shook his head viciously to add to his statement. "Nothing can stop them. If you'd seen it, you'd know…" He glanced back over his shoulder, trembling. His voice began to rise in volume again. "I'm getting out of here before it's too late! They'll be here any minute, I'm telling you. Run while you still can!" He slipped around me then, still raving to the air.

"Stick to the roads!" I shouted after him, but I wasn't sure if he heard me. _I_ could travel the back country without much worry, but I also had the skills to defend myself. _Poor sod._ Turning back to the encampment, I made my way in. I hadn't gone far when a voice stopped me.

"You're going the wrong way, Wood Elf."

I paused in my step, and looked to my right to see a weary, middle-aged Redguard staring solemnly at me.

"You don't want to go that way," he said, noting my direction. "There's nothing left, just like Hirtel said."

"Hirtel's the Altmer?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't matter. I need to find somebody."

The Redguard sighed.

"Right now, we all need to find somebody," he said. He gestured at the camp. "Late at night, while we were all asleep, a door to Oblivion opened. Daedra came out and set fire to the town. Many people died, but some got out alive. As far as I know, this is everyone. It's a pretty pathetic slice of what used to be Kvatch's population."

"Did an Imperial named Martin make it out with you?" I asked. The Redguard frowned.

"If you mean the priest," he answered slowly, "I don't think he made it out of the city. Very few of us did." Unease crept into my heart at his words, but I forced it down and ignored it. "Savlian Matius may know more. He's in charge of the city guard that's defending the camp."

I nodded.

"Where can I find him?"

"He'll be at the barricade at the top of the road. He's still trying to hold what's left of the Guard together." I didn't like that statement. My skills often outmatched those who served in the city guard, but that did not mean they were helpless civilians by any means. To hear that it was down to remnants...

"Thank you," I said, and I stepped away. As I moved through the tiny tents I kept an eye out for any potential Martins just in case the Redguard was wrong, but there wasn't a single Imperial male of the appropriate age in the entire camp. I pressed onward.

Although a storm had been brewing when I arrived, as I climbed up from the camp, I began to realize that it wasn't a storm of any natural make. Lightning danced with sudden frequency across the dark, unnatural red sky, and thunder rumbled in its wake. I tried not to think about implications of such a sky. _It's possible the Dragonfires protected us from a threat only the emperor could perceive._ As I neared the top of the trail and the city, the sound of steel and magicka filled the air, and I hastened forward, drawing my bow. I rounded the last corner, and was met with a scene I'd never before imagined in my wildest nightmares.

A gate to Oblivion, a great, seething, fiery portal to the immortal world, waited beyond the wooden barricade the Guard had erected, and from its hungry maw a wave of daedra poured. I stared, overwhelmed by the sheer terrifying awesomeness of it all. The nearest soldier, bareheaded but for a bandana wound about his forehead, saw me.

"Stand back, civilian! This is no place for you," he shouted, breaking me from my enthrallment. "Get back to the encampment at once!" He didn't have a chance to say more, as he was abruptly engaged by a hissing, spitting creature that vaulted over the barricade that had been put up. I drew and arrow and buried it in the creature's neck, and then into the chest of the next one about to vault over. The soldier turned and slew another one about to flank another of the guard, and then bashed in the face of yet another about to mount the barricade. I turned my bow to those beyond the barricade, and slew two more before they reached him. The other soldiers swarmed around a small, hunched, scaly-hided creature with a bony frill covering its neck beyond the barricade. It charged a soldier and threw him six feet with a head butt before it was overwhelmed. One of the soldiers went to the downed one and helped him rise and limp back behind the barricade. The others filed back, a pair of them guarding their retreat, and resumed their defensive positions. I jogged over.

"What happened here?" I shouted as I approached. The bareheaded soldier turned and scowled at me.

"We lost the damned city, that's what happened!" he answered. The disgust and rage in his voice was clearly audible, although it didn't seem to be directed at anyone or anything in particular. "It was too much, too fast," he said, looking over at the city. "We were overwhelmed – couldn't even get everyone out. There are still people trapped in there. Some made it into the Chapel, but others were just run down in the streets. The Count and his men are still holed up in the castle, and now we can't even get back into the city to help them with that damned Oblivion gate blocking the way!" He threw his arm out at the Oblivion gate, snorting in disgust.

"So what's your plan?" I asked, keeping an eye on the fiery Oblivion gate. I didn't like fire that wasn't controlled by me. Not since... well, it didn't matter. It was in my way, and damned if I was going to let it stop me from getting to Martin, should he still be alive in the city. As immodest as I liked to act about my martial skills, I didn't think I could handle whatever was in the city _and_ what was likely to come out of the Oblivion gate. A look of fierce determination grew on the soldier's face at my question.

"Our plan? To do the only thing we can do," he replied. "We'll try to hold our ground, that's what. If we can't hold this barricade, those beasts could march right down and overrun the encampment. I have to try and protect the few civilians that are left. It's all I can do now."

I nodded in grim approval.

"I'm looking for a man named Savlian Matius," I told him. "Do you know where he is?"

He drew himself up.

"I am Savlian Matius. What do you want?"

"I need to know if an Imperial named Martin escaped the city." I didn't think it likely, but I had to check. He frowned.

"Martin? You mean the priest? Last I saw him, he was leading a group towards the Chapel of Akatosh. If he's lucky, he's trapped there with the rest of them, safe for the moment at least. If he's not…" He trailed off, and I tried not to think about the alternative. Tamriel, not just Kvatch, was in for the fight of its life if he was dead.

"Scamps!" an Altmer guard shouted, alerting us, and we turned to see another wave of the hissing daedra appear from out of the gate.

It was a quick battle, fortunately. The scamps were swift, but didn't have the hardiness of the atronochs and dremora I'd seen conjurors summon before. We stood, catching our breath, after we defeated the wave, watching the gate.

"They're probably just sending scamps to keep us occupied while they comb the city for survivors," said the Altmer who'd shouted out the attack. He clutched a wounded arm, and I motioned him to me, reaching to place a hand on the wound and channel through it what healing magicka I knew. "They know we're too few to need anything more."

"Don't talk like that, Merandil," Savlian replied. He sheathed his sword and turned to me. "And you," he said to me. "You'd best get back to the encampment. There's no telling when more of them will come out of that infernal Oblivion gate."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"You don't want my help?" I asked dryly. His eyes widened in surprise. The incredulity on his face was almost amusing.

"You want to help? You're kidding, right?"

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly, and gave Merandil the good-to-go, retrieving my hand.

"I have to find the priest," I said. "I may be good with a bow, but taking on the whole of Oblivion seems just a _touch_ beyond my abilities." I flashed smile and then sobered. "Those daedra will keep pouring out if the Gate remains open, and I can't chance his death to a threat I can destroy. If you say closing the Gate is possible, then that's what I will do." I spoke bravely, but it would have been a lie to say that part of me wasn't terrified at the thought of entering the conflagration that was the Oblivion gate. Savlian Matius was quite for a moment, thinking. Presently he met my gaze.

"If you're serious, maybe I can put you to use," he said. "But this is most likely a one way trip. Are you sure?"

I nodded.

"I'll do whatever I can," I assured him. He looked thoughtful again.

"I don't know how to close the Gate," he said. "But it must be possible because the enemy closed the ones they opened during the initial siege." He gestured at the ground beyond the barricade with a mailed hand. "You can see the marks on the ground where they were, with the Great Gate right in the middle. I sent men into the Gate to see if they could find a way to shut it – they haven't come back. If you can get in there, find out what happened to them. If they're alive, help them finish the job. If not, see what you can do on your own. The best I can say is 'good luck'. If you make it back alive, we'll be waiting for you." I nodded again, letting my breath out through my nose in a sigh as I gave myself a quick, motivational, internal speech before turning to face the Oblivion gate. Behind me, I heard Savlian shift his weight. "It's a brave thing you're doing," he said quietly, and I glanced back over my shoulder with a wry smile.

"Just don't die before I get back," I said, and he responded with a grim smile. I faced the Oblivion Gate once more, and with slow steps I approached it, caution and wariness taut in my every limb. My bow was ready in my hand. As I neared, the heat of the flames washed over my face, and I unwilling flinched away from the fiery fingers that snapped and reached for me. Fire was the one thing I could never train myself to brave fearlessly. With a calming breath, I inched forward my trembling fingers and touched the roiling, red surface, snatching them back immediately. After ascertaining that the tips were indeed unburnt and that pain was not forthcoming, I reached forward again, letting my hand play for a moment in the red tongues of flame. When nothing I happened, I took a breath and I stepped through before I could have second thoughts. Fire flashed by my eyes, a roaring filled my ears, and a rushing feeling enveloped me. I felt like I was crossing miles in seconds. Then, suddenly, the ground was solid, and I almost sprawled forward on my face with the stillness of it. Catching myself, I looked around, disoriented, and swallowed uncomfortably.

It was hot. The air was sweltering, and if rocks could sweat I was sure that the reddish sentinels surrounding me would have been doing so. Beneath my feet a cracked, stone path lead a winding road around a corner hidden by a rock wall, and, ahead of me, in the distance, two tall, horned towers loomed against the red sky. There were human skulls spiked on slim poles several yards in front of me, and between them, a blackened, twisted corpse of some unrecognizable soldier. It reminded me of a body the Dark Brotherhood had left behind in an old, abandoned farmhouse. I banished the thought.

I had gone only a few steps when the sound of battle reached my ears, and, as I hastened around the corner, a lone soldier came into view, besieged by a pair of scamps. I rushed down to him, nocking an arrow as I did so. He mustn't have realized I was there at first, for he kept moving in my line of sight, but after the first scamp fell to my arrow he looked up, noted me, and refrained from getting in my way. Another scamp joined the first two after a moment, but was swiftly defeated. I jogged up to the soldier after all were dead.

"Thank the Nine!" he said as I neared. "I never thought I'd see another friendly face." Sweat ran in rivulets down his face, his hair was matted with blood and dirt, and his eyes flicked around, wide and unable to settle on any one spot for any reasonable period. He was utterly terrified, and looked like he had been so for some time. "The others," he continued, desperate and hopeless. "Taken… they were taken to the tower!"

"Calm down, guardsman," I said, putting up my bow and taking him by the shoulders. I forced him to look into my eyes, which was a feat, seeing as I was two hand spans shorter than he. "It's all right. What's going on?" He swallowed, and appraised the danger over each of my shoulders before answering.

"Captain Matius sent us in to try and close the gate. We were ambushed, trapped, and picked off. I managed to escape, but the others are strewn across that bridge." I remembered the blackened corpse and grimaced. "They took Menien off to the big tower. You've got to save him! I'm getting out of here!" Even through his armour, I felt him tense under my hands, and he seemed to lean toward the Oblivion gate leading to our world. If I pushed him, this man would break, I was sure. His sanity might have already been lost to the horrors of the daedric realm as it was.

"Fine," I said, withdrawing my hands. "Captain Matius needs your help."

Hope and disbelief coloured the soldier's expression.

"The Captain is still holding the barricade? I figured I was the last one alive." The relief that flooded through his face was palpable. A shaky, small smile even appeared on his lips. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll try to get out of here and let the Captain know what's going on." I nodded, and he sheathed his blade, moving past me with almost fanatical exuberance at his new-found half-freedom. I watched him go, stepping a little down the path to ensure I saw him exit. It would have been unbearably tragic if one the scamps got him now. He deserved the respite, or at least the opportunity to die in his own realm of existence. Poor sod.

As I turned back to the realm before me and readied my bow, I thought briefly on the idea of dying in my own country, in my own realm. I supposed technically I was from Valenwood, but so much of my life had been spent in Cyrodiil that it was more accurate to call me a citizen of that province than the other. Would I mind dying outside of Valenwood? Outside of Cyrodiil? A little maybe, but certainly much less than that soldier. I didn't have a family, didn't have a home, unless you counted the empty hall I rarely frequented or the ownerless beds present in every guildhall, and that was that. I pressed deeper into Oblivion.

I saw many daedra as I passed through the realm: scamps, the hunched creatures that had thrown the soldier several feet back at the gate, a large, two-legged, lumbering beast that looked somewhat like the alligators that sometimes swam in the waters near Leyawiin, and even a woman-like creature whose hips and legs were replaced by a bloated, black spider's body. I had no names for most of these daedra, but I avoided them surreptitiously, taking great pains to evade their detection. I didn't know their capabilities, but I had seen before what conjurers could summon out of Oblivion. Most of it could kill me if it took me by surprise. Yet despite this, I found myself slowly growing accustomed to the realm. After one got used to the smothering heat, the boiling, cracked stones, the thundering, red sky and the sentient plants, Oblivion wasn't really that bad of a place. The threat of the daedra – perhaps because they were confident no outsider would breach their defences – was present but avoidable, and, although the bodies strung up everywhere were gruesome, they couldn't hurt you. I had been trained to accept danger without qualm, to move within shadows and strike from secrecy, and I supposed my childhood only added to my conditioning. One wasn't raised in the Dark Brotherhood without carrying away some sort of scar or psychological defence against horrors and death.

I was close to the first tower, the door to it being just across a short expanse of open space.. I peered out from behind the rock where I was resting, searching for enemies and wishing I had water to ease my parched throat. Satisfied that the way was clear, I clutched my bow tighter and hoisted myself over the rock. I landed silently, and dashed across the space. Nothing attacked me. I pressed a hand against the red, daedric symbol on the door, and, despite the door's heavy look, it opened easily under my hand.

Inside, the tower was dark. The only source of light came from the fiery pillar that swirled about itself in the middle of the room. It looked to be made of the same material as the surface of the Oblivion Gate, and I wondered briefly if there was some connection there. Calling upon my magicka, I cast the simple detect life spell I knew and was rewarded by the purple glow of two scamps. As silently as I had ever done, I drew my bow and quickly fired two arrows in succession, killing them both with one strike each. After another quick glance about the room and ascertaining that it was empty, I made my way to the small, stone door to my left. I was about to exit when the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I turned just in time to see lightning flash out of the darkness. It hit me in the chest and threw me against the door, arcing between my limbs and throughout my body as I screamed, muscles spasming. The magicka ran its course, and I collapsed to the ground, gathering myself just in time to throw myself to the side as a dremora appeared out of the gloom of the tower, crying a daedric battle cry and his mace descending to strike. It hit the ground to close for comfort, and I had to roll out of the way as he made a quick swing at my prone form. I came up on my knees, brought my bow up, drew an arrow, and shot the dremora in the stomach. It punched through his armour and he staggered from the force of it. I shot him in the throat while he recovered. He swayed, and then crumpled to the ground with a gurgle. I let out a breath and stood, wincing at the lingering pain from the dremora's spell, before moving to him and recovering my arrows. My swordsmanship might be pathetic, but Modryn had never criticized my talent for archery.

The room beyond the stone door led into a hallway that sloped up to the next level of the tower. There was a scamp and another dremora there, but, with the deep shadows prevalent in the tower, I was able to sneak by them with ease. The shock spell from my previous fight still ached in my bones. I didn't feel like trying to force my way through the tower. Beyond them was a door that led me to a spiralling walkway that circled the fiery column I'd seen on the first floor. My detect life spell revealed several creatures on the ramps above me, and I swallowed back my apprehension as I watched their purple forms slink across the floors. I was getting tired and beginning to understand why the soldier I'd met was such a wreck. There was no rest in Oblivion, no cessation of danger. Even I was more at home in the most treacherous of places in Tamriel. I climbed the walkway as high as it would take me, and entered the only door available.

It was another sloped hallway. The door at the end of it was locked. I tried to open it with one of my lockpicks, but the little tool turned to cinders as I inserted it into the lock and burnt my fingertips. I straightened, searching for another route, and found the only option to be a door situated on the other side of the room. It led outside, across a narrow, stone bridge ornamented by the red tipped spikes I saw everywhere in the realm. Through the entrance on the opposite side I entered into a smaller tower with the same walkway that curved around the edge of the building as I had seen in the first. I hiked up to the top, wary for danger, and was startled to hear a distinctly human voice.

"Hey, over here! In the cage! Over here!" I turned to see a bare-chested man in cruel looking, blood spattered cage. His knuckles were white against the bars. "Quickly, quickly! There's no time!" he said frantically as I approached. I began to search for a way to free him. "You must get to the top of the large tower," he told me. "The Sigil Keep, they call it. That's what keeps the Oblivion Gate open! Find the Sigil Stone. Remove it, and the Gate will close! Hurry! The Keeper has the key – you must get the key!" I frowned as he spoke, unable to find any way to open the bars.

"Where is this keeper?" I asked, but I didn't need to.

"You should not be here, mortal," a daedric voice rasped at me. I whirled around to face the owner, a particularly large and unpleasant dremora equipped with a heavy mace and armour. I reached for my sword; my bow would do little for me in these close quarters. "Your blood is forfeit," he growled as I unsheathed it. "Your flesh, mine!"

"Look out!" the prisoner cried, and then the dremora was upon me. Our weapons crashed in a clang of steel. I struggled to fend off his superior weight and strength, but he was too powerful, and I ended up pinned against the cage, the life slowly crushing out of me. I tried to gasp out a few words to the prisoner – Menien, the man the first soldier had mentioned, I realized as stars burst before my eyes – but most of it was cut off as the dremora grinned and threw his weight against me. I think I heard something crack. I gasped. Menien must have heard what little I said, however, for he reached through the bars and grabbed my dagger, then sunk it deep into the unprotected flesh of the dremora's knee. The dremora reeled back, and, with a strength I thought had long failed me, I threw myself against him and pushed him over the edge of the railing. He gave a gurgling cry and flailed, catching me in the arm with his mace, and then tumbled down the centre of the tower, landing on the spiked platform several floors down with a sickening, squelching crunch. I hissed in pain and turned away, limping over to Menien.

The man was in a bad state. I collapsed by his cage, my pain ridden vision focusing on the shallow cut across the inside of three of his fingers. My dagger had been poisoned, as it often was. He must have cut himself with it when the dremora jerked back, and the antidote I usually carried had been destroyed in one of my previous battles. He met my eyes, and gave the faint laugh of one who can't quite believe he's dying.

"Look at me," I gasped, reaching through the bars to grab his arm. "Don't look around, look at me."

"Find the Sigil Stone," he murmured slowly through blueing lips, his gaze on mine. "If you take it they can't attack Kvatch anymore. Promise me." His eyes widened as he spoke – with pain or passion I could not tell. "Promise me!"

"I promise," I said as I watched the life drain from his face. He sighed, grimaced, and then lied still. Slowly I lifted my hand from his arm, and slowly I closed the unseeing eyes. I was still for a moment as the solemnity of the moment overtook me, and then I put my back to the cage with a groan of pain and set about healing my injuries. When that was finished, I rose and headed back down the ramp. I didn't look back at the body.


	5. The Siege of Kvatch

The dremora keeper's corpse had been impaled in several places, and his mouth hung open as if still screaming. I searched the body apathetically, eventually turning up a heavy key of some black metal I'd never before seen outside Oblivion. I stood and returned the way I came.

The key fit perfectly into the lock that had burnt my lockpick, and I entered the subsequent room quietly, avoiding the spikes that reached out to impale me as I climbed the sloped hallway to the next area. At the top there was a glowing, sparking portal hovering in the air, waiting to take me to some unknown place, and I stepped onto it after a moment of hesitation. It brought me up to a feebly locked door, which I opened easily after a moment of my lockpick's time. Before I entered, I cast my detect life spell, revealing the forms of three – what I assumed to be – dremora. I put my back against the wall by the door and opened it cautiously, peering around the corner warily with my bow ready. The room inside appeared to be the top of the tower, and held a great, red, glowing half sphere set into the floor, through which the fiery column from below flowed. There was a set of jagged stairs on either side of the room leading up to a second level that ringed the room, and, at that level, suspended in the fiery column, was a large, stone-looking object. _The Sigil Stone? _The two closest dremora were on the lower floor, where I was, muttering to each other in their own tongue and looking utterly bored. The third I couldn't see, but from what my spell had revealed, I guessed it was on the upper level, perhaps guarding the stone suspended in fire.

I took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the wall, into the doorway, my bow raised and ready. The dremora didn't see me. I released my arrow. The dremora on the left toppled over, an arrow embedded in his skull, and the second – dressed as a mage without armour – had but a moment to straighten up and come to the alert before I feathered two arrows into his chest. The third dremora looked over the edge of the upper level's balustrade, curious as to what had made the clanking sound that was the armoured dremora collapsing, and I raised my bow and shot an arrow at him, catching him in the throat just above the gorget of his armour. He staggered and fell back out of sight. I readied another arrow and nocked it, my eyes scanning for any movement, but there was none. Satisfied that the dremora had been dealt with, I put away my arrow and made my way up the stairs. There was a small outcropping of black stone leading out to the column of fire, and I cautiously stepped onto it, fighting back the fear that welled up inside me and the urge to stay far away from it. I lifted a hand and slowly moved it into the fire, ascertaining with trembling fingers that it was indeed of the same make as the Oblivion gate, and of no harm to me. I steeled myself and grasped the stone. The world lurched. I nearly let go of it as I caught my balance, then righted myself and tore it out of the fire with a determined heave. A roar filled the air. The ground began to shake. I clutched the stone to my breast and stumbled back. The pillar collapsed upon itself, then exploded in a rush of noise and light. I threw me back against the wall, winding me. Chains snapped, stone cracked, and metal groaned. I tried to stand. Something dark was approaching me, but everything was growing so bright I couldn't see. The rushing feeling I'd felt the first time I stepped through the Oblivion Gate began to fill me, but at the moment I was about to whisk away, I realized the darkness was the figure of a dremora. There was a distant roar, and then the cold, sharp sting of metal bit angrily through my armour and into the warm flesh of my side. I returned to Tamriel screaming.

In my world, it was cold, and night, and raining. I collapsed to my hands and knees, clutching at my wounded side as I tried to think through the pain. The Sigil Stone slipped from my grasp. A spell, a spell. I needed a spell. What were the words? How did I gather the power? I raised my watering eyes to see Savlian and the other soldiers rushing towards me.

"I knew you could do it!" the captain cheered as he neared. "This is our chance to launch a counterattack!" He reached a hand under my arm to yank me up, and I shrieked in pain. "You're wounded!" he cried, but I hurt too much to reply. It took all my willpower to keep my teeth firmly gritted as it was. There were some shouted words as I was lifted and carried back behind the barricade, and a few moments after I was settled there something cool and smooth was touched to my lips.

"Drink," Savlian's voice said roughly, and I did as best I could, although the liquid was bitter and I choked on it. Slowly then, the pain eased away to a dull throb, and I opened my eyes to see the faces of Savlian and the soldier I saved from Oblivion hovering over me.

"Well done, Ilend," the captain said, slapping the man on the back with a grim grin. "I think that saved her." I coughed, wincing as the pain flared up momentarily, and groaned.

"I think that dremora caught me just as I was leaving," I said with a hiss as I tenderly touched my side. The skin was barely knit – I would have to be careful, and my leather cuirass would need repairing. I sorely wished for the equipment I'd left behind in the Imperial Prison Guard's care.

"You like to play it close, don't you?" Savlian said, half-teasing, half-serious.

"I'm alive, right? I kept our bargain."

"Thanks to Ilend, here," he said, nodding his chin in the soldier's direction. "It was his potion that healed up that nasty hole in your side." I slowed in my survey of my body, lifting my eyes to Ilend's.

"I suppose that means were even, then. A life for a life."

He nodded.

"Did you… did you find Menien?" he asked. I lowered my gaze.

"He's dead," I said as gently as I could. "The daedra had him – he died helping me."

"By the Nine," Savlian swore, and Ilend turned away. I struggled to rise in the silence they kept, and looked over at the smoking heap that used to be the Oblivion gate, my thoughts empty.

"I need you to come with us," Savlian said after a moment, his voice heavy with reluctance and need. "You've got far more combat experience than any of these men, and I need everything I can get." I fixed him with my green eyed stare, but he didn't falter. "If you need a moment, I can wait, but not for long," he said. "We've got to move quickly before they have a chance to barricade the city gate." In my heart I knew he was correct: I probably had more fighting experience than the entire remnants of the Guard grouped together, the Altmer with his long life included. And they were in a sorry state. I glanced back at the ruined Gate, and nodded.

"I'm ready," I said in a sombre voice. "Let's go." A feral grin grew on Savlian's face at my words, and he drew his sword with great deliberation. He turned to his men, still smiling.

"For Kvatch!" he bellowed.

We drew our weapons and answered his cry, charging after him as he stormed the gate. The southern plaza where we entered was teeming with daedra, and I had not a moment to collect myself before I was in the fray. The soldier at my side fell almost instantly. I didn't have time to see if he got up. My arrows flew without cease as I ducked and dodged claws, swords, fangs, and fire. By the time every last scamp, clanfear, and dremora had been ousted, we were all weak and panting, but fortunately had only lost one of our members. The wound in my side ached, but I ignored it. Savlian's laughter rang out across the plaza.

"We wiped the bastards out!" he roared, half to me, half to the others. He clapped Ilend on the shoulder and revelled in our victory for but a moment before sobering again. "It's safe to pull those people out of the chapel now," he said. "Let's get in there and make sure they're all right. Come on! This is only the beginning of the battle for Kvatch. We can discuss the next phase once the civilians are safe." I nodded my assent along with the others, and then we headed for the ruined chapel.

Inside, the chapel was dark and quiet, as most chapels were, but it held the unmistakable scent of fear and death. There were a few civilians scattered about, praying, tending wounded, or simply staring off disbelievingly, but it was a pathetically small gathering all and all. A pair of guards stood near the doors, and they half drew their swords as we entered, as if expecting a fight, but relaxed when they recognized us as allies. It was the apparent leader of these, a Redguard woman, to which Savlian headed.

"Report, soldier," he barked, and she stood tall to attention.

"Sir, we're all that's left: Berich Inian, myself, and those civilians…" Her voice trailed off as I turned away. I had different quarry to find.

I moved deeper into the chapel, my eyes resting briefly on the Altar of Akatosh at the far end, but no soothing words of comfort or wisdom greeted my heretic ears. A woman moved by my side, pacing slowly and aimlessly, and I called out softly to her.

"Good woman, I'm looking for Brother Martin," I said. "Could you point him out to me?"

"Brother Martin?" she repeated in a strained voice, and for a moment I feared she would tell me he was dead. "Yes, he's right over there. He led a group of us here during the confusion of the attack. We owe him our lives." I was a little more impressed by the reiteration of this tale than the first time I'd heard it. I now understood, after all, a little better what the poor people of the city had faced.

I followed the line of the woman's arm as she pointed, and my eyes settled on the figure of an Imperial man kneeling at the side of a wounded soldier, his hands and face soft as he worked his magicka on him.

"Thank you," I said, and left the woman's side. As I approached him from across the chapel, Martin paused in his work to wipe at his brow with a tattered sleeve. I realized then that he had probably been hard at work healing others this entire time, and my distant respect for him again rose. I came to a stop beside him, waiting until he was finished his work to address him. He rose, glancing at me as he did so, and I was instantly struck by his blue eyes. Blue like the emperor's… like his father's.

"Do you need healing?" he asked in a weary voice I instantly liked. I shook my head.

"No, I'm... looking for you, actually," I said. "You are Martin, yes? The priest?"

Martin sighed, a weary, frustrated, drawn out thing.

"Yes, I'm a priest," he replied. "Do you need a priest? I don't think I'll be much help to you. I'm having a little troubled understanding the gods right now." His eyes narrowed as he glanced over at the altar. "If all this is part of a divine plan, I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with it." He returned his gaze to me. "Are you here to help us? We've been trapped here since the daedra overran the city."

"Savlian Matius and the rest of the Guard are here to help everyone get to safety, yes, but I have a different task," I said. "You're in great danger. You have to come with me."

His expression darkened.

"Danger, you say? You came here to tell me this? The daedra are everywhere, of course there is danger! Explain yourself or leave me alone. There are many others here who actually need your help." I was taken aback by his practical and cynical reply.

"The only one who can help them is you, Martin. I'm just here to make sure you can do that."

He scoffed at my words.

"If you came to me for help," he said, "you're more of a fool than you look. Look around. What good is a priest?" I was a little offended by his remark, but reminded myself of what he was going through. It was already difficult enough for me, trying as I was not to think of the guild mates and friends that I'd lost to the daedra here, but for Martin, whose home this was, I could only just imagine his suffering.

"It's not your being a priest that can help. It's your blood," I told him. I glanced around uncomfortably. "Listen this isn't the place to tell you everything, but you must trust me. I was sent here by Jauffre, Grandmaster of the Blades. If you come with me, I can explain, and I promise your people will not be left to––"

"There you are! We've done it!" Savlian exclaimed, interrupting me as he strode up and clapped me on the back. I winced as my side protested. "I can't believe it," he continued. "I didn't really think this would work. Maybe we _do_ have a fighting chance!" The expression on my face must have been something to behold, for he smiled darkly and clapped me on the back again. "Oh, yes," he said. "We're not done, not even close. This was only the first step. If this city is to be ours again, we'll need to get inside the castle. You've come this far with us. Will you go further? If we're truly going to succeed, I'll need much more of your help."

I clutched at my side as tears gathered in my eyes. All this back clapping hurt.

"Savlian, I..." I glanced to where Martin had been, and realized he was gone. I quickly scanned the chapel and saw him disappearing out the southern door, the wounded soldier leaning on his shoulder, and let my breath out through my nose. The Oblivion gate was closed; Martin would be safe at the encampment and able to help the wounded. He could remain here until Savlian was finished with me. After all, I'd grown fond of the captain and his soldiers in the short time I spent with them, and I owed it to Menien and my dead men to try and save the city. I faced Savlian again.

"Whenever you need me," I said, and he laughed.

"I knew you'd be up to it!" he said. "Our goal is the castle gate. We should be able to use this door" – he gestured to the northernmost door of the chapel – "to get out to the plaza in front of the castle gatehouse. You know the drill. Stick close, and keep your eyes open." He faced his men, who had formed up behind him. "Let's move out."

It was a long and bloody battle to the castle gate. Men and daedra fell right and left. Some rose. Others didn't. By the time we reached our objective, I was exhausted, and my wound was protesting furiously.

"Dammit! This is no good!" Savlian pounded on the gate with a mailed fist, but the solid bars didn't move. The other soldiers surrounded us, holding back the advancing daedra. "The gates are locked, and the only way to open them is from within the gatehouse."

"There must be some other way to get inside," I shouted over the roar of battle and rain. It had begun to piss in the time that we were inside.

"There's the passage at the North Guard House," he yelled back. "But that's always kept locked. You're the fastest. Go back and find Berich Inian. He should in the Chapel, and should still have the key to the Guard House. Once you've got it, get to the Guard House, find the passage, and open the gate. We'll get inside and secure it."

"Understood. I'll go as fast as I can," I replied, and then dashed off toward the chapel through a path Merandil and Ilend cut for me.

It took me longer than I liked to return to the Chapel, and I was bruised and bloodied by the time I pushed aside its heavy, wooden door. My spirits were lifted, however, by the sight of three Imperial soldiers entering opposite me. The leader, a big, burly, brown-eyed Imperial, stepped forward.

"We saw smoke from the Gold Road while out on patrol," he said. "How can we help?"

I let my breath out in a whoosh, grateful to whatever deity or circumstance that had led these men here.

"Follow me," I said. "The daedra are thick out there – I'll need help getting through to the Guard House."

The Imperial nodded.

"We'll be right behind you," he replied, and I glanced away to scan the room for Berich after gracing him with a thankful half-smile. Luckily for me, Berich – or who I assumed to be Berich, seeing as he was the only remaining soldier in the Chapel – was making his way to me. His one arm was in a sling.

"One moment," I said to the Imperial legionnaire, and then I turned and met the Kvatch soldier halfway. "Berich Inian?" I asked. He nodded.

"Do you bring new orders from Captain Matius? I'm itching for a chance to fight back!" His eyes flicked over to the wooden door, and he started when I spoke to him again, as if I had woken him from his thoughts.

"Do you have the guard house key?"

He met my eyes with a questioning frown.

"Yes, I have it. Why?"

"I need it to get into the Guard House," I replied. Behind me the Imperial Legionnaires waited patiently, each double checking equipment and speaking quietly about the situation. Berich sucked in his breath at my statement.

"That's right!" he exclaimed. "They managed to close the castle gates just before we were forced in here." His expression sobered darkly. "I'm afraid you're in for a rough time, friend. The city's in bad shape, and it will be difficult to make it to the Guard House by yourself. I'd better go with you."

"You're wounded and the Legionnaires are coming with me," I said with a wave in their direction. "You needn't put yourself in danger."

"You don't know the way," he argued, and I had to admit the truth of his words. "And you can use every blade you can get out there. My shield arm is gone, but I can still swing a sword. I'm coming with you."

I gestured to the Legionnaires, and they formed up behind me.

"As you wish, Berich. Your courage is admirable."

The grim thinning of his lips into what might have been a smile on happier days was the only response to my compliment.

"We'll have to go through the Chapel Undercroft," he explained, "and then through what's left of the city." He paused, lowering his eyes for a moment before continuing. "If… If I don't make it, take the key and carry on without me. You need to reach the tower at the north wall of the city."

I shook my head at his words, squarely meeting the eyes of him before glancing back and meeting those of the Imperial soldiers.

"We're going to make it," I said forcefully, daring them with my glare to argue. Berich said nothing, looking grim, and then gave a bare nod and drew his sword.

"This way," he said, and then we descended the steps in the middle of the Chapel and made our way into the dark room beyond them.

There were scamps inside, lurking between the pillars and hidden in ill-lit alcoves, but fortunately no one was hurt in the initial skirmishes. I briefly wondered why they hadn't appeared in the Chapel proper to attack the civilians as we sped past the underground tombs, but there wasn't time to think it through thoroughly. Berich took us through a side door, and then we were outside in the smoke and the ruin and the rain and the daedra. Fire exploded beside me, and one of the legion soldiers cried out. Berich held the point, slashing and stabbing as he raced from foe to foe, and I followed him, my armour spattered red with daedric blood.

We came into what once had been a central courtyard area for Kvatch, now crawling with scamps. The legion archer formed up beside me, and they perished quickly under our keen eyes, Berich and the other two protecting us from the ones who managed to get close. I noticed then that the taller one, the leader, was limping a little. He waved away my offer to heal him, and Berich nodded.

"We've got to keep moving," he said, and so we pressed on. It wasn't much farther to the North Guard House after that. We regrouped inside its burnt walls, Berich turning to us. "This is it. The entrance to the passage is right here." He gestured at a manhole-like covering situated in the tower's floor. A tarnished key appeared in his hand, and he knelt to unlock it. "If Captain Matius is waiting on you to get that gate raised, you'd better get moving," he added as he straightened. He met my eyes evenly after a glance at the Legionnaires. "I'm going to head back and meet up with the rest of the troops. Best of luck."

"To you too," I answered, and one of the Imperials behind murmured an assent. Berich ducked around us, and then we were alone. "Let me see your leg," I commanded of the brown eyed Imperial. "You aren't doing us any help walking around wounded like that."

He drew himself up.

"You're tired, Wood Elf," he said. "Anyone can see it. Save your magicka for someone who's dying – I'll be fine for the time being." I drew my lips into a thin line of displeasure, he was right. My spells were weak as it was; in my fatigued state I wasn't even sure I _could_ heal him.

"Fine," I consented. "But if it worsens, tell me." He tipped his head in accordance, and then we filed down through the opening.

As I reached the bottom of the ladder built into the wall, heat washed over me. I turned my head to see fire greedily licking up the sides of broken shelving, and I flinched away while something deep inside me suppressed a stronger shudder. It had been some time since I had witnessed a horror like Kvatch, and it was all too easy to imagine the same fire eating up the bodies of the dead civilians and guardsmen. Beside me, the legionnaires formed up, the taller one managing with obvious pain. I said nothing. We had come to an agreement, after all.

The passage ran straight, and, mercifully, was clear of any daedra. I hopped up the stone stairs at the end as lightly as my body would bear me, and found myself in a circular room. After taking a moment to look, I discovered a set of rungs fixed to the wall, leading up to an exit like the one we'd used to enter. I waited for the others, then began my ascent.

We found ourselves outside, in the small passageway between the two portcullises that defended the castle. Savlian Matius and his men waited patiently, albeit with swords drawn, and I was relieved to see that no one else was missing from their party.

"I found reinforcements!" I called out to him as I hurried passed. "Has Berich arrived yet?" He shook his head, but his reply was lost to me as I scaled the steps leading up to the gatehouse. I struggled to turn the winch mechanism until the other swordsman at my side stepped up to help. He turned it easily, and I realized then just how exhausted I was. I hoped with sudden ferocity that no more fatal injuries would appear among our ranks – I wouldn't be able to help anyone if they did.

The gates rose quickly, and Savlian and his men pounded through the new opening, immediately engaging the daedra that poured forth from the other side. My legionnaires and I flew down to help them; arrows and battle cries reigned down from both sides. The fighting was furious. The worst part, however, was that we weren't just fighting scamps.

What we met in the streets must have just been the cleanup crew, for here our adversaries were thicker, stronger, and more powerful. A pair of clanfear rushed at me, and I succeeded in avoiding them only by chance. The guard behind me cried out as he was crushed by one's bony head against the outer castle walls. Fire flew and exploded all around us, guided by the sparking hands of flame atronochs, and one of the huge, leathery creatures I'd in Oblivion snapped at us with a mouthful of teeth and heavy claws. One soldier tried to engage it and was batted aside with ease. She lay, writhing in agony for a moment as she clutched her shattered arm. The legion archer behind me fired an arrow at it, and it lurched for him. Then Berich arrived.

"For Kvatch!" he screamed, and he threw himself at the creature. I shouted at him to stay back, to wait for us, but he refused to listen, or didn't hear me. I shot an arrow at the clanfear that had returned to finish its business with me, and suddenly there was a great, wailing screech that filled the air. I glanced back to see Berich with his sword in the monster's ribs. The clanfear lunged at me and I shot another arrow at it, throwing it off balance momentarily just as a fireball exploded beside me. I threw up an arm to protect myself from the debris. There was a particularly loud human scream, and something heavy collided with me, throwing me to the ground. I was instantly drenched in something hot and wet.

"Aah..." a voice moaned, and I realized that I had been hit with a person. I lifted myself to my elbows to find myself face to face with Berich. He had been ripped in half.

"Berich," I gasped, and then the clanfear from before was upon me. It hurled itself into my chest, picking me up off the ground and throwing me several feet before it descended upon me again, slashing at me with claws and snapping with its sharp, hooked beak. I kicked at its stomach; it squealed and backed away, giving me only a moment to draw my dagger before it leaped forward again, slashing with cruel claws. A faint whistle pervaded the air, and then an arrow thudded into the clanfear's side. It screeched and staggered, then collapsed as another sunk into its neck.

"The area is clear," I heard Savlian shouting. "We've got to get inside and find the Count before it's too late. Move out!" I briefly met the eyes of the Imperial archer who had saved me, but he headed out with the rest of them before I could thank him. I stood shakily, wincing at the ache in my ribs and the lightning pain that flashed through my injured side, and stumbled to Berich. His eyes stared sightlessly. I closed them and turned away.

"All right, this is it!" Savlian roared as I entered the Great Hall after everyone. Another of those monstrous creatures that had killed Berich approached, its claws extended and teeth bared in a vicious grin. "We'll hold this area," he growled to me as I drew closer. "You're the fastest, so you head to the back of the castle and find the Count. Don't come back without him!" I nodded and drew my sword. The creature lunged, and with a collective cry the soldiers descended upon it. I took the chance to escape.

It was eerie in the ruined castle. Furniture was broken and burning, and blood was everywhere. I startled a scamp that was feasting on a woman's flesh, and another one later that appeared to be eating what had once been someone's arm. After the clanfear, the scamps seemed easy prey, but I took no chances and slew them as quickly as I could.

The Count's chambers were no better off than the rest of the castle. The chandelier had fallen and lay in a ruined heap near the entrance. Fire raged. I stepped around the burning furniture, nervous and my hopes failing as a spattered blood trail appeared beneath my feet. I stopped as I entered the bedroom. The Count was dead, lying half mangled by hid bed.

With a sigh I sheathed my bow and bent down to the still body. It was cold, and, from the stiffness of its limbs, had been dead for some time now. I pried the signet ring off the Count's lifeless hand. Savlian would want proof that his beloved leader was dead. He could then deal with the body as he saw fit.

The trip back through the castle was uneventful, but the shattered look of hope of Savlian's face as I entered the Great Hall alone was worse than the Count's dead corpse. Behind him, Merandil and Ilend lowered their eyes as they tended to the bodies of their comrades. The monstrous creature lay dead in the corner.

"Where is the Count?" Savlian croaked, his voice rough from shouting orders. "Why is he not with you?" I licked my lips slowly, trying to decide how best to tell him. I settled on sympathetic honesty.

"I'm sorry, Savlian. He didn't make it."

His eyes widened; shock and disbelief ran rampant through his face.

"We… we were too late?"

He looked so broken that I reached forward to offer comfort, but then his face contorted in sudden rage and I stopped. "If only we'd gotten here sooner!" he shouted, kicking at a broken piece of furniture, and then, as suddenly as it had come, his fury vanished. He seemed to age before me. "This is indeed a dark day for all of us left," he said in a low voice. "But I thank you for risking your own life to help us."

"It was all I could do," I said, and he shook his head in disagreement.

"Did you find the Count's ring, by any chance?" he asked when I said nothing. I pulled forth the piece of jewellery and handed it to him. He took it, his face solemn. "At least this is safe," he said. He lifted his eyes to mine again. "Thank you. I'll make sure it is protected for the time when a new Count is crowned." He put it in his pocket, and then proceeded to begin removing his chainmail hauberk.

"What are you doing?" I asked, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. "There could still be daedra about."

"I don't care, and I want you to have this," he answered, handing it to me. "I have no need for it. I'm tired of fighting. But it may serve you well in days to come, and it looks like you need it." He nodded at my ruined cuirass.

"Savlian, I can't––" But I was stopped by the looks on Merandil and Ilend's faces. They were weary, worn, and watched me numbly. Savlian, their leader, was trying to thank me, and I was refusing him. Their morale was low enough as it was.

I met Savlian's eyes, and took the hauberk.

"Thank you," I said quietly, and proceeded to exchange it with my cuirass. When I had finished, I straightened up. He nodded in grim approval.

"It fits well," he remarked, and I dipped my head in thanks. He took the leather cuirass I'd removed and held it in bloodstained hands, shifting his weight uncomfortably. We were silent for a moment.

"My name is Sarasamacial," I said finally, and a noiseless laugh escaped him.

"You're right," he said. "I didn't know your name." He drew himself up. "Sarasamacial, the Hero of Kvatch," he proclaimed, and his echoing voice seconded the call. It was my turn to shift uncomfortably, unsure as I was whether or not I deserved such praise. When his echo had faded, Savlian spoke again. "We never would have made it if you hadn't closed that Oblivion Gate." I started to protest, but he cut me off. "It's true, so don't bother denying it. They say Kvatch was rebuilt from ruins once before, and she'll do it again. Thank you for giving us that chance." I glanced from grim face to grim face, touched by the gratitude and unsure of how to accept it. I reached into my pouch and drew out a handful of gold coins – all that I'd brought with me from Chorrol.

"Here," I said, taking one of his hands off the cuirass and pressing the coins into it. "To help rebuild. Think of it as my part."

He frowned, confused.

"You won't stay?" he asked. I shook my head.

"There were more than just good intentions in my reason for my coming here, Savlian. I'm glad that I helped Kvatch, but there are things that need my attention, things that may help stop whatever it is that's happening to Tamriel. However," I said with grave seriousness as I squarely met his eyes, "I will return when this is all over, and do what I can to help then."

He nodded, accepting my words, and I released his hand.

"Take care, then," he said, "and good luck with whatever it is you're doing." I smiled, briefly and weakly, and moved past him, nodding to Ilend and Merandil as I did so. With a heavy heart I pushed aside the weighty door and stepped out into the carnage of the outer courtyard. The Legion soldiers were there. At least, two of them were.

The taller one – the leader – and the archer had survived. The swordsman who had helped me with the winch hadn't. They had relieved him of his heavy Legion armour, and had him slung, limp, between them in an attempt to carry him out of the city. Their progress was hindered, however, by the taller's growing limp.

"Here, let me help," I said, moving to take the leader's place. He gratefully relinquished it, and followed us at his own slow pace. We made our way in silence, pausing only when one of us needed to rest our weary limbs. On one such pause, I studied the statue of Antus Pinder, but found no satisfaction in the knowledge that we had weathered our battle better than he, when Kvatch had first been razed to the ground.

By the time we reached the outer gates of the city, the night was well on and the rain had stopped. I helped the archer hoist his comrade's body onto the backs of one of their horses, and then helped him with his injured leader. When the archer himself was mounted, they turned to me.

"What is your name, Wood Elf?" the brown-eyed leader asked, his face showing none of the pain he must be feeling.

"Sarasamacial," I replied. "And yours?"

"Renegus Armillian," he said with a slight nod. "You're the one from the Fighter's Guild, aren't you? The one who dealt with the hist problem?"

"Yes. That was me."

He turned his horse, preparing to leave.

"The Legion will not forget your work here," he said. "Good luck." The archer nodded to me as he passed, and I watched them disappear down the switchback trail, the blue cloth we'd found in the Chapel fluttering around the limp form of their comrade. I wondered briefly how many people had died this day.

A raven took flight from a tree behind me, and I started at the movement. My side shrieked. I winced and clutched the offending part, hissing at the sudden burst of pain. My injury hadn't ceased complaining since the fighting began, but now that the adrenaline had faded from my veins and I had a moment to think, it raised its voice to a scream. I grit my teeth and called up my healing spell. The energy it drew from my limbs hurt almost more than my wound, but it faded peacefully as the ache in my side dulled by a degree. With a strengthening of my resolve, I set down the trail after the Legionnaires.

The sun was just rising by the time I arrived in the encampment. My Imperial friends were nowhere to be seen, so I assumed that they had continued on. There were few people out, and those that were had huddled around a small campfire to the left of the road, speaking quietly in low voices. I stumbled on a loose rock as I watched them, and pitched forward with a cry. The ground kissed my cheek with its gravely lips and nuzzled the heels of my hands as I landed, and I lay there with a groan afterwards, too exhausted to care. It felt nice to just lay there, unmoving, although my side felt like it had been ripped in half, which, I realized dimly, wasn't too far from the truth. Footsteps sounded in front of me, and I raised my head to wearily survey their source. An Argonian woman was making her way toward me. I struggled to lift myself.

"Here, let me help," she said in her rough voice as she knelt beside me. I winced and clutched a hand to my side as she took my arm, and she paused. "Do you need a healer?" she asked as her large, red eyes rested the wound hidden under my fingers and hauberk.

"No," I said with a gasp and a shake of my head. "I'll be fine, I just, ah!" – I grit my teeth as the pain overwhelmed me for a moment – "need rest." As far as I could tell her gaze was concerned, but she said nothing, choosing instead to accept my words and help me up. It took all of my willpower to hold back the whimpers my body wished to release, but I had a job to do.

"I'm told you are the one who closed the Oblivion Gate," she said as led me staggering toward the campfire. "I'm amazed. Thank you, on behalf of all Kvatch's refugees." Between the pain and her sincerity I didn't know what to say. _Oh, it was my pleasure. Killing things is my job_ didn't quite seem appropriate, and neither did _I was just doing it to get Martin_, but it was all I could think of. Something at the back of my heart cringed away from her words, reminding me that I was wicked and cruel and didn't deserve her gratitude, but I ignored it.

"Thank you," I said once the pain was under control. "Can you tell me where Martin the priest is?"

She nodded and settled me down on a log that served as a seat by the fire.

"Here, have some," she said, and she filled a wooden bowl with the stew that bubbled over the fire pit before handing it to me. "It's the least we can do. You probably haven't eaten in a while, have you?" The others around the fire looked over at me, some with recognition and awe, others blankly. The Redguard from before was there, I noticed.

I reached for the stew with my free hand, my right hand, but stopped as the movement pulled at the stiff, healing skin of my side. I looked at her helplessly for a moment before gingerly lifting my left hand from its resting place and reached forward, trying to ignore the wave of pain that emanated from the spot. There was a gasp from the Argonian and the Nord woman beside me, and I looked down to see the side of my hauberk stained red from ribcage to hip. I met the Argonian's eyes, and then I fainted.


	6. A Visit of the Emperor

In the darkness I was running, my hand gripped tightly by a woman's as trees and other foliage whipped past us. Brambles scratched at my legs and branches cut at my cheeks, but I could not slow for the woman's incessant tug on my arm. Gasping, I followed her, knowing only that to stop meant to die.

"Aranwen," she said, weeping as we sprinted along. "Aranwen, keep running!"

Yet as hard as I tried, the evil thing behind us kept catching up, gaining on our pitiful attempt at escape. I couldn't run as fast as her – my legs were too short, my lungs, too little. I was slowing her down. She was going to die. I was going to make her die.

Her hand was ripped from my grasp suddenly. I pitched forward into the bushes and hit the earth, crying.

"Mama!" I screamed. "Mama, where are you!" But the only thing that greeted me were crazed, brown eyes that stared at me from the darkness of the trees, and a cruel, thin smile that grew ever larger as it watched me.

"You belong to me," he said, and then his hands were upon my face and on my skin, touching me, feeling me, and the cruel smile kissed my lips with a hunger I couldn't satisfy.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, and then, "no!" But he only laughed, and I was consumed by him.

* * *

I woke to dim sunlight filtering through the grey fabric of the tent around me. I frowned, narrowing my eyes as I waited for them to adjust, then lifted my hand to brush away the hair clinging to my brow. It had been some time since I had dreamt even a little about my childhood, and I was puzzled by its brief appearance.

"I'm glad to see that you're awake."

I turned my head to face the voice that filled the tent, half startled by its suddenness, and sighed inwardly with relief. It was Martin. He had been safe here after all. He sat on a low stool, looking exhausted, but pleased. I guessed that I'd been his project for the night. Well, morning.

"What time is it?" I asked. My voice was unbelievably rough.

"About eight o'clock in the morning… the 1st of Heartfire."

"Over a day?" I cried, sitting up, noting vaguely that my side didn't hurt. That was good. Martin looked away unobtrusively, as if pretending to notice and study some insect on the ground, and I glanced down to find myself exposed but for my undergarments. I sucked in my breath.

It wasn't that I was embarrassed – I'd had my fair share of men in my youth and visited too many healers over the course of my life to be so – but rather my vanity was stung. My side was a twisting mass of scar tissue and new, red skin, and it snaked from the bottom of my ribcage to my hip and almost across to my bellybutton. I'd always been vain, but lately that vanity had become more of a pride in my lack of battle scars, at the prowess I displayed in keeping my body unmarked. _Your insides are coming out,_ a voice inside me said._ Soon everyone will see just how hideous you are underneath, no matter how noble you pretend to be._ I ignored the thought and reached for the new shirt folded by my pillow.

"Whoever healed you kept you alive," Martin said quietly as I dressed, "but it was not cleanly done. The wound was soiled and infection spreading. Your shirt was actually healed into the skin. I did the best I could, but I am no great healer. By the time Oleta came there was nothing she could do. It will probably remain that way for the rest of your life. I am sorry."

I tugged on my last boot and sighed, looking up at him.

"I'm alive," I said. "That's what counts. I'm grateful for what you've done." I spied my armour neatly piled in a corner of the tent, and reached for it.

"You don't intend to fight again so soon?" he asked, his voice vaguely admonishing. "I've stayed here this past day to ensure you live. Do not waste it."

I met his eyes squarely as I pulled a leather greave close.

"I have to take you to Jauffre," I said, strapping it on. "I'm hoping we won't get into trouble along the way, but hoping doesn't mean it won't happen."

Martin gave a slight shake of his head.

"I wondered if you were going to bring that up again," he said.

"I have to," I replied. "Jauffre thinks you're the only one who can stop this."

"I don't even know what 'this' is."

I gave a sigh and straightened, trying to work out in my mind how best to explain the situation.

"A few nights ago, Emperor Uriel and his sons were slain by assassins," I began. "It was a well planned strike. No one was ready for it, not even with the usual precautions." I paused again, still unsure how to explain his part in it.

"This is grave news," Martin replied, thinking I was finished. "But I fail to see how it involves me."

I looked up at him.

"Martin... You are Emperor Uriel's final heir."

He fell into stunned silence, his face frozen in disbelieving astonishment.

"Emperor Uriel Septim?" he said after a moment, incredulous. "You think the emperor is my father?"

"Martin, I know it must be difficult to believe, but––"

"No, you must have the wrong man. I am a priest of Akatosh. My father was a farmer."

"I know what it's like to find out your parents aren't who you thought they were, but please, you must listen. I have to take you to Jauffre."

Martin rose from his seat.

"No," he said. "It is you who must listen. There are people here who need me. Even if I am the emperor's son, I won't be dragged to court to play puppet to nobles who would use me, not when I can be of help here. I thank you for what you've done for Kvatch, but I can't go with you. I'm sorry." He turned to leave. I rose.

"Martin!" He paused, back to me, one hand lifted to draw back the tent flap. "I wouldn't take you from your home for something so petty. Not when your people needed you," I said. "But if you stay here, it won't solve anything. The daedra will keep coming for you. More invasions could occur. Kvatch might not be the only casualty."

There was a moment of silence.

"Are you saying the daedra attacked Kvatch because of me?" he asked. His voice was quiet, broken.

"With Uriel and his sons dead, we fear you're the only one with the power to relight the Dragonfires," I said. "The barrier between Tamriel and Oblivion is broken. You are the last threat to Mehrunes Dagon and his domination of the mortal realm. It... makes you a target, unfortunately."

Martin turned to face me, pain etched in every line of his face.

"So all this destruction, all this death," he said. "It is because of me? It is my fault?"

I shook my head.

"No, not your fault, Martin. You can't choose whose son you are, and you didn't choose this." He let his gaze fall from me, taking in, it seemed, the stool beside my makeshift bed and the grass around it. "Come with me to Weynon Priory," I said gently, feeling the need to draw him from his thoughts, whatever they may be. "You've done all you can for your people here. Now it's time to meet Jauffre and see what can be done for the rest of Tamriel."

He was quiet for a moment.

"You destroyed the Oblivion gate, they say," he said finally. "You gave them hope. Helped them drive the daedra back. Aided them when there was no reason for you to." He lifted his eyes to me once more. "Yes," he said. "I'll come with you to Weynon Priory and hear what Jauffre has to say."

I gave him a small smile, relieved and grateful.

"Go say your farewells," I told him. "I have to finish armouring up anyway, and there's no reason you shouldn't be allowed to say goodbye to your people. I'll wait." He nodded his head in agreement, and then stepped outside. I let my breath out in a long sigh, looking around me with hands on my hips. After a moment, I reached for my new Kvatch hauberk.

* * *

I decided to cut across country as I had done before. Although it wouldn't afford the protection the road gave with all its Legion soldiers patrolling it, I was uneasy taking Martin near people I couldn't be sure weren't the enemy. In addition, due to my little nap we'd already lost a day, and I wanted to make it up. As it was, it took us almost an extra day to reach our destination, exhausted as were, even with Shadowmere. The sun was almost ready to set as we trudged up the road to Chorrol, speaking of nothing of substance. I wanted to keep his mind off Kvatch and the new twist in his life.

"Look there," I said, pointing out the first glimpse of the priory through the trees. "Not far now." We had only gone a few more steps when Eronor came racing around a corner in the road, his limbs flailing and eyes wide with fright.

"Help!" he cried, and I drew my bow, looking for his source of fear. "You must help! They're killing everyone at Weynon Priory!"

"Hold on," I said, grasping his shoulder with my free hand to keep him from running past. I strained my ears for sound of approaching enemies as I watched the road with my peripheral vision. "Tell me what happened." He shook his head, hysterical.

"I don't know! I think they're right behind me! Prior Maborel is dead!"

"Who's attacking Weynon Priory?" I demanded, shaking him a little to return his attention to me. He swallowed and shuddered.

"I was in the sheepfold when they attacked," he began, only a little of the panic leaving his voice. "I heard the Prior talking to someone, looked around the corner to see who it was. They looked like travellers, ordinary. Suddenly weapons appeared in their hands and they cut down the Prior before he could move! They saw me watching and I ran."

"Where's Jauffre? Is he safe?" Out of the corner of my eye I saw Martin glancing around uneasily. I sensed the magicka he held at the ready. Eronor looked down as if trying to remember.

"I don't know. In the Chapel praying, I think." Desperation flooded his face again. "You must help us!" Voices sounded on the road ahead. He looked back fearfully.

"Take the side road to Chorrol," I told him forcefully. "Alert the Guard. Under no circumstances are you to be seen by the enemy, is that clear?" He nodded, and I released him. I gestured at Martin. "Take Martin with you," I added. He turned to the priest, but Martin shook his head.

"I would go with you," he said to me. "My abilities can be of use at the Priory." I frowned at him. What he said was true, but it was too risky.

I was about to refuse when Eronor gave a cry and cringed away, turning to dash down the road. An assailant in daedric armour bore down on us, and I nocked an arrow and let fly in one smooth movement. Whether or not the enemy was killed by my arrow or Martin's bolt of lightning I wasn't sure, but I glared at him as I retrieved my arrow from the still twitching body anyway. "Fine," I grudgingly agreed. "Come with me, but stay out of the way and don't get yourself killed."

The Priory was swarming with attackers, all wearing the same daedric armour, and Martin and I plunged ourselves into the fray without a second's hesitation. I heard a shout from my left and noticed Brother Piner fending off a group of three, and shot several arrows in the direction of his attackers, killing two of them. He took the opportunity to cut down his final assailant, and I turned to face my own. There was no need. A last roar from one of Martin's spells faded as the remaining attacker fell, and then it was over.

"Gods blood! They came out of nowhere!" Piner cried as he rushed to our side. "Have you seen Grandmaster Jauffre?"

"Eronor said he was in the Chapel," I informed him, and an expression of mingled relief and worry overcame him.

"Then we should check there for him," he said. "Come on!"

The sound of steel upon steel assaulted our ears as we pushed open the heavy door, and Piner dashed by me to come to the aid of his mentor. Jauffre was holding his own against three more of the attackers, but with Piner, Martin, and myself it was over in moments. I sighed and surveyed the mess as I counted my arrows. Jauffre sheathed his sword.

"You're back! Thank Talos!" he said. I shouldered my bow and faced him squarely.

"You're alright?" I asked. He nodded.

"Yes. I was praying in the Chapel when I heard Prior Maborel shout. It gave me just enough time to arm myself."

"Then those that are alive are safe. Good. You have the Amulet?"

Jauffre froze, worry lighting up his eyes.

"I keep it in a secret room in Weynon House," he said. I swore and turned about, making for the exit. Jauffre, Piner, and Martin fell into line behind me.

Inside Weynon House, Jauffre stepped ahead to lead us to the secret room, but he had little need to do so. The shelves that had hidden it from view had been overturned, and the door was wide open. Even as he reached a hand inside the drawer of the lone desk inside to retrieve the Amulet, I knew we had failed.

"They've taken it!" the grandmaster said. "The Amulet of Kings is gone!" I swore again, silently reminding myself that I needed to come up with a curse other than 'Oblivion take it', considering the circumstances.

"The enemy has defeated us at every turn," Piner said dejectedly. I shook my head.

"Not every turn," I said. I moved to where Martin stood uncertainly in the doorway, and placed and hand on his shoulder, guiding him deeper into the room. "Jauffre, Piner, meet Martin Septim."

"So it is you," Jauffre said, nodding. "You will forgive me, Sire, for not giving you a proper welcome considering the circumstances."

"Er, yes. No need," Martin replied awkwardly. Jauffre turned away and leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk as if to find strength in its unyielding grain.

"So it has not all gone against us. Thank Talos for that." He straightened, and faced us once more. "You cannot stay here, Sire," he announced. I frowned. "We have driven them off, but they will be back once they learn of your survival, which they will."

"If he can't stay here, where will he go?" I asked, anger colouring my tone. "He was supposed to be safe with the Blades. I didn't take him from Kvatch only to put him in more danger."

"Nowhere is truly safe against the power arrayed against us," Jauffre admitted. "But we must play for time, at least. We will go to Cloud Ruler Temple, the hidden fortress of the Blades, in the mountains near Bruma. A few men could hold it against an army."

"Bruma? You want us to travel, exposed, to _Bruma_? It was dangerous enough getting him here!"

"We have little choice. We should leave at once if we want to arrive by nightfall tomorrow."

I glanced back at Martin, who met my eyes tiredly. He was exhausted, _I_ was exhausted, but Jauffre was right. There was little choice. Nowhere was safe, and we had to move quickly before the attackers – who I recognized to be of the same order as the assassins who murdered Uriel – could strike again. I sighed. Jauffre moved passed us, murmuring a 'Sire' and bowing his head. Brother Piner followed.

"I'm sorry," I said, turning to Martin. "I truly thought you would be safe here. I wasn't my intention to take you all over the province."

"The fault doesn't lie on you. You did what you thought best," he replied, his voice low and soothing as it always was. "Let's continue on to Cloud Ruler Temple. I haven't had a good night's sleep since Kvatch was attacked, and I'm sure you haven't either. It will be good for the both of us to have a safe place to rest." I watched him silently for a moment, and then heaved a heavy sigh.

"You're right. Let's go," I agreed.

Jauffre was waiting for us at the bottom of the steps, a bed roll and bundle under his arm, and he led us outside to the stables where we found two horses waiting for us, each saddled and bridled by the good Brother Piner. Jauffre and Martin were waiting for me by the time I had retrieved Shadowmere from the courtyard and settled myself.

"We'll take the Orange Road," said Jauffre, walking his horse over to me. "We'll be a little more exposed, but at least the Watch will be around to keep a check on the assassins, and we won't have to worry about getting lost. I know a place to make camp along the way, and, if we're lucky, we should arrive at Cloud Ruler Temple before the sun sets tomorrow." I shared a glance with Martin, and gestured for him to take his place behind Jauffre. With Uriel's heir safely between us, we set out.

I debriefed Jauffre on the situation at Kvatch and on what had happened there as we made our way. I was as gentle as I could, but I could tell my words brought back memories Martin didn't wish to remember. Afterwards, I trotted up beside the priest, allowing Jauffre to get a few steps ahead to gain some privacy.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"I'll be fine once we reach Cloud Ruler Temple," Martin replied. "I just need some rest."

I lowered my eyes at his solemn tone, studying the roadside vegetation.

"I know what that's like. To be fine. To need rest."

He didn't reply, so we rode in silence for several minutes. Presently he turned to me, his eyes studying my face.

"After what you told me about the emperor and his Blades while we travelled to Kvatch, I was sure you were one. Jauffre tells me this isn't so," he said.

I shrugged.

"It's true. I'm not."

"So why are you doing this, then? Why endanger your life needlessly for me?"

I gave a short, humourless laugh.

"First off, I wouldn't say that saving your life put mine 'needlessly' in danger. Saving your life seems to be a pretty big deal right now. Also, I'm rather miffed about all the people those assassins have killed, and keeping you from them seems like a good way to get their armour all in a twist."

"You're not worried about them coming after you?"

I looked over at Martin, a teasing smile on my lips.

"Martin, if there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I'm very hard to catch." I held his gaze a moment longer, waiting for the worried frown on his face to ease a little – which it did – before facing forward again. "Also, danger to my life is of little concern to me. I'm the Champion of the Fighters Guild. If I didn't want danger, I picked the wrong career."

"So did your guild master send you to Jauffre, then?"

I shook my head, the memory of me lying to Modryn about my activities clear in my mind.

"No. Emperor Uriel did," I said. "I was there when he died. He gave me the Amulet of Kings and told me to find Jauffre, as Jauffre would know where to find you." I faced Martin again, my expression serious. "My being the Champion dictates that I offer my services to those who need them. You need them. My duty as a citizen of Tamriel dictates that I serve the Emperor when commanded. I have been commanded. But this is also my home, and there are people in it that I love and care for. Kvatch was enough. I had friends there, and good men from the Guild. I won't let these Oblivion-touched bastards take any more from me. That, and I..." I trailed off, looking away. _That, and I want to be forgiven. If I save enough lives, does it balance the scale for how many I've taken?_

"That, and...?" Martin prompted. I shrugged, not really wanting to answer.

"Nothing, really." When I turned and met his eyes, however, I found that I couldn't follow through with the lie. There was something of his father in his gaze, in his ability to make me want to be... more. Not a liar. Not a murderer. I sighed. "I haven't always been a wise person," I admitted. "I've made mistakes, done bad things. Most of them have hurt others. I think part of me believes that by saving you I can make up for some of them."

Martin looked forward and didn't say anything, and inwardly I wondered if I had said too much. I'd meant to comfort him with my show of determination, but perhaps telling him that I had a shady past hadn't been the best way to do it.

"I know what it's like trying to atone for something," he said, breaking the silence and pulling me from my thoughts. "I have also made mistakes in my past."

I regarded him solemnly for a moment, then cracked a grin and raised a teasing eyebrow at him.

"Oh, have you now?" I said. "That's it, no more imperial royalty for you. Everyone knows the Septims never make mistakes, especially that Pelagius fellow." I gave him a wink. Pelagius III, of course, was best known as Pelagius the Mad, and was rumoured to have defecated on the floor of his palace just to give the servants something to clean up. Martin gave a slight laugh.

"For a champion of the Fighter's Guild you seem to know quite a bit about history."

"I could say the same for you, priest. Let's just say I've read a lot of books." What I didn't tell him was that most of those books came into my possession by illegal means, and that I often made quite a good profit on them. Martin suddenly sobered.

"Am I really Emperor Uriel's son?" he asked. I nodded towards Jauffre.

"He would be the one to know. Apparently it was he who took you to your parents when you were a babe." Martin fell quiet again, and I looked down at my horse's mane, unsure of what to say. I had also been lied to about my parentage – I knew the feelings involved could be complicated.

"I'll leave you to your thoughts," I said, and dropped back to my former position behind him.

By midnight we were all nodding in our saddles, Martin especially, so we decided to make camp and settle down for the night. Jauffre and I took turns keeping watch, ignoring Martin's protests that he could do thus as well, and so it was with a measure of weariness that I watched the sun rise only a few hours later. I rose to wake Jauffre, and, shortly after that, Martin. The rest seemed to have done the priest little good, however, for the lines of fatigue and the dark bruises of exhaustion were still heavy under his eyes, and I wondered how much he had actually slept. We broke our fast on the few supplies Jauffre had prepared, and set out on our way again.

By the afternoon the cold walls of Bruma had appeared before us. We were on the road the enter the city, but, perhaps a mile or so from it, we turned onto the scrub beside it and began climbing the mountain nearby following a path even I was hard pressed to detect. It became a switchback trail as we climbed higher, reminding me unpleasantly of Kvatch. From the looks of it, Martin was feeling the same way. I trotted up beside him.

"What is it, my friend?" he asked as I slowed to match his pace, and I took a breath, revelling in the sensation of cold air filling my lungs while I tried to buy time to arrange my thoughts.

"I'm just wondering how you're doing," I answered after a moment. "This reminds me a lot of Kvatch; I was thinking it might be the same for you." Martin didn't look at me. Instead, he chose to keep his eyes fixed on the fortress looming above us. I felt like he was studying it.

"What happened at Kvatch was what happened at Kvatch," he said. "I'm old enough now to know not to dwell on things that cannot be changed, and it is as you said: now is the time to see what can be done for the rest of Tamriel." I didn't reply – I had nothing to say. Martin was surprising me at every turn. I had expected to be needed by him, to help him bear his burden of grief and death and sudden emperor-hood, but it simply wasn't so. He was so human, so embittered against the gods who betrayed him, yet he possessed the same strength that I had seen in Uriel – an emperor's strength.

I gave myself a mental shake. An emperor's strength? Honestly? I was getting soft and all… romantic. Ugh. I'd have to change that. Modryn would highly disapprove.

Martin and I may have spoken more, but it was then that we arrived at the top of the trail. Jauffre dismounted, Martin and I following suit. As we neared, the great gates of the fortress groaned outward, revealing a soldier garbed in full Blade regalia, as Baurus and Glenroy had been at the start of this adventure.

"Grandmaster," he asked. "Is this…?" His eyes flicked to Martin and Jauffre nodded.

"Yes, Cyrus. This is the Emperor's son, Martin Septim." Cyrus stepped forward, bowing deeply to Martin.

"My lord, welcome to Cloud Ruler Temple. We have not had the honour of an emperor's visit in many years!" It was obvious Martin was a little out of his element with the situation, but he took in a breath and stepped up to the challenge, performing admirably, if awkwardly.

"Ah, well, thank you," he said. "The honour is mine."

"Come," Jauffre said, guiding him in. "Your Blades are waiting to greet you." I followed the group silently up the grand steps, feeling a little out of place as I waited to the side while Jauffre led Martin past the two, orderly ranks of Blades to their head. There, they turned, facing everyone.

"Blades!" the Grandmaster began. "Dark times are upon us! The emperor and his sons were slain on our watch. The empire is in chaos, but there is yet hope. Here is Martin Septim, true son of Uriel Septim!"

The Blades around me drew their swords, raising them to the heavens as they cried out, "Hail, Dragon Born! Hail, Martin Septim! Hail!" When their shouting had finished, Jauffre turned to Martin.

"Your Highness, the Blades are at your command. You will be safe here until you can take up your throne." Martin seemed to take a moment to absorb this, and then, with sudden decision, stepped forward.

"Jauffre," he said, and then, to everyone, "all of you. I know you expect me to be Emperor. I'll do my best, but this is all new to me. I'm not used to giving speeches, but I… I wanted you to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That's it. Thank you." Jauffre moved beside him, nodding approvingly.

"Well then, thank you, Martin." He turned his attention to the Blades, looking every inch their leader even with his greying hair and monk's robes. "We'd all best get back to our duties. Eh, Captain?" One of the men near the front nodded, and the soldiers dispersed. In the aftermath I made my way to Martin, who seemed relieved to see me.

"Not much of a speech, was it?" he said. He glanced around at the Blades. "Didn't seem to bother them, though. The Blades saluting me and hailing me as Martin Septim…" He shook his head, almost as if in disbelief. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful – I know I would be dead by now if it weren't for you, thank you – but everyone expects me to suddenly know what to do, how to behave. They want an emperor to tell them what to do, and I haven't the faintest idea."

"You did fine. I'm sure they understand," I said, trying to reassure him. I crossed my arms, absentmindedly rubbing my side that had been ripped open not long ago. "In any case, you know what needs to be done, so there's no reason to worry for now. The Dragonfires can't be lit without the Amulet, after all."

"Of course, the Amulet of Kings," he said. "So we" – he stopped and corrected himself – "_I_ can take it to the Temple of the One and light the Dragonfires, and stop the Oblivion invasion."

I smiled at him, the half smile I gave when I was pleased but not enough to show it properly.

"See? You'll do fine as emperor," I said gently, quietly. Martin let his breath out with a shake of his head.

"The emperor… that's an idea that will take some getting used to." He straightened up, seeming to take strength from his next thought. "In any case, you are right: we need the Amulet first. Maybe Jauffre will know where to start." I was about to reply when a Blade walked up, his brown eyes gazing out from beneath the rim of his helmet.

"Your Majesty," he said, capturing Martin's attention and effectively cutting me off. "If you would like to come inside, I can show you to your quarters." The priest glanced at me, apologetic and with some uncertainty, and then nodded to the soldier. The man gave a bow, and then turned to lead the way. Martin paused beside me, hesitating.

"Don't worry about me, my friend," he said, noting my expression. "I'll be fine. Get some rest – we can worry about the Amulet later." He then stepped after the soldier, following him through the east door of the temple. I sighed as I watched them leave, wanting to go too. I had grown protective of Martin in the short time that I had known him, but I had no claim to him. He would be as safe with the Blades – if not safer – than he would be with me.

As I stood there, alone, the slight wind tugging infrequently at my hair, I felt a pang of loneliness. What was I doing here? I belonged with Modryn, with the other Fighters. I wasn't a Blade or a Legionnaire sworn to the service of the Empire. I wasn't some model citizen able to change the tides of fate. This... wasn't my place.

I wondered bitterly if this was all Uriel had wanted me to do. Had I just been a messenger after all? The Blades didn't need me – I had my uses, but they were spent. No one had come out to greet me. No one had offered _me_ a place to stay. Perhaps it would be better if I just left.

Besides, Modryn could always use my help, and, if I was honest with myself, I still had my promise to keep to him. The promise I had been carrying out as I was captured by the Imperial Guard.

Yet if I abandoned Martin now…

Footsteps sounded behind me, and I turned to see Jauffre making his way towards me. In his hand he held one of the signature curved swords the Blades used, and I wondered what use he would have of it, seeing as he already carried his own blade sheathed on his back. He stopped in front of me, holding the sword reverently before him.

"You have proven yourself a loyal servant of the Empire," he said, and I stared at him in surprise. "As worthy as any of the Blades to stand by Martin's side during this crisis. As the Grandmaster of the Blades, I would be honoured to accept you into our order." He met my gaze solidly, his brown eyes boring into my own. "Will you join us?" I stood still, my eyebrows up in my hairline, not knowing exactly what to say.

Maybe no one offered me a _bed,_ but Oblivion take it all if this wasn't an offer of gratitude.

"Jauffre, if you jest, it isn't funny."

"I am offering this opportunity in all sincerity, Sarasamacial. Baurus did well to send you to me, and I wish to offer some reward for the service you have already provided for the Empire."

I drew in a deep breath, staring at the sword held in his aged hand, weighing the pros and cons and trying my best to keep my excited feelings out of the way.

"What would be my duties as a Blade?" I asked slowly, keeping my eyes on the sword. I felt more than saw Jauffre nod, as if he sensed the reasons for my hesitation.

"The Blades are sworn to the service of the Emperor as the mortal representative of the Dragon Blood of the divine Talos." Amusement coloured his tone as he continued in his account. "You would be required to do little more than what you have already done. I am sure the work would be very similar to your Fighters Guild."

I lifted my eyes to meet the Grandmaster's, a wry smile on my face.

"Of course," I said. "Because fighting off assassins, finding long lost heirs, and trying to prevent Mehrunes Dagon from taking over Tamriel is a normal day's work in the Fighters Guild."

The corners of his mouth twitched up momentarily and laughter shone in his eyes, but the Breton said nothing, choosing instead to wait patiently for my answer. My attempt at distraction failed, I put a hand to my head, smoothing the hair there while I tried to collect my thoughts.

"I... I don't know Jauffre. This is a great honour – I mean, I can't even really believe your even thinking about giving it to me, but… I-it's not that I'm ungrateful or anything, it's just…" _Gods, I wish Modryn was here. He'd know what I should say._

I looked up and met Jauffre's eyes.

"Jauffre, I'm a Fighters Guild champion, and, as admirable as that is, it's about the only honourable credit I've got to my name." I glanced away. "I don't want to be a part of something big – I mean, I want to be a part of_ this, _of saving the Empire, but I'm not sure. I don't think I…" _I don't think I fit in here. Not as a Blade. I've done too many horrible things to be one of the emperor's men._ _I always screw up._

"Sarasamacial, you are one of the most courageous warriors I have had the honour to meet. You have put your life in danger for no other reason than you believed it to be right. I have spoken to Martin about you, and he has told me of your actions in Kvatch. You didn't need to help Savlian Matius. You could have left with Martin long before you did." He caught my gaze unwillingly, offering me a mentoring, encouraging smile. "You are more suited to the Blades than you think."

I smiled uncertainly back, wanting to but not entirely accepting his words. My vision dropped to the sword resting between us, and, although I gazed longingly at it, I couldn't make myself pick it up. I wasn't ready to be a part of the Blades. I was barely able to hold on to the responsibilities – morally-wise – of the Fighters Guild. As much as I wanted it, I needed more time to adjust, to figure myself out. Besides, I couldn't abandon Modryn, not after all he'd done for me.

"I can see this is a difficult decision for you. Why don't you sleep on this and give me an answer when you are ready?"

I sighed, unhappy to disappoint him, but relieved at the same time. He reached out a creased hand to take mine, and pressed the hilt of the sword into my palm. I glanced up at him, startled.

"Jauffre, I can't…"

"If nothing else, think of it as your reward," he said, taking back his hand. "That is Akaviri steel – most would do more than aid Kvatch for a chance to get it."

I nodded, holding the sword reverently to my chest as a grateful smile touched my lips.

"Thank you, Jauffre."

He nodded and turned to the fortress, his arm gesturing at its majestic expanse.

"This fortress is well supplied with arms and armour," he told me. "Use what you need from the armoury in the east wing. There is a barracks in the west wing if you require rest, and if there is anything else you need I am sure one of the Blades will be able to help you." I murmured my understanding, and he continued. "As it is, we have no word of the Amulet or its whereabouts, so perhaps you should take some time to re-supply and familiarize yourself with the fortress while you can. You may not be a Blade, but I daresay you will be spending some of your time here."

I nodded, a small, determined smile briefly growing on my lips.

"I'm here for the Empire. Until this crisis is over, please think of me as one of yours."

"I will. I'll contact you if the situation changes," Jauffre replied, and with that he turned and made his way over to a pair of sparring Blades in the courtyard, calling out advice as he did so. I watched for a moment, and then, with a gleeful brush of my fingers against my new sword, headed into the fortress.

The Great Hall of Cloud Ruler Temple was dark and warm, a respite from the cold of the dying day outside. Strong, wooden pillars ran down the length of the room, holding up the high, vaulted ceiling, and, from the rafters in between, rows of Akaviri swords hung, their blades glistening in the light of the fire burning in the grand fireplace at the end of the hall. With a sudden pang of sorrow, I realized they were the arms of the fallen Blades, and I wondered briefly if Renault's and Glenroy's were there too. With lowered eyes I turned, making for the east wing.

It took me some time to explore all of Cloud Ruler. It was, without a doubt, one of the largest fortresses I'd ever seen. I wondered as I wandered through rooms – great hall, barracks, armoury, a small chapel, kitchen, storerooms, and many others – how such a fortress had remained hidden all this time. I had never even heard whisper of it in all my time as the Grey Fox, and how it was able to get its necessary provisions without attracting attention was beyond me.

After ascertaining the armoury held only heavy armour of no use to me and making the acquaintance of yet another Blade – Ferrum, his name – I took the steps leading up from it and found myself, to my great surprise, in a library. It was a rather warm and comforting place. Bookshelves lined the walls, tables and chairs were set out, red carpets covered the floor, and, at the far end, set away from the books, was an alchemy set. I took in a deep breath, revelling in the smell of the books and allowing a small bit of contentment to enter my heart. Home, for me, had always consisted of books and an alchemy set, whether it was in my small room at the White Stallion Lodge, my corner in the Guild common room, or my study in Rosethorn Hall. Vicente had been very adamant about my learning to read proficiently as a child (and as a consequence there was little that brought me as great a pleasure as a new book well written), and my taste for the alchemical arts, although initially fuelled by a desire to outmatch Lucien's poison apples, ran deep throughout me and sated an otherwise unquenchable desire to learn and create.

The smile that had grown on my face faltered. _The Brotherhood_. When I first left it, all I had wanted was, at alternating times, reunion and revenge. It had hurt so much to be betrayed, to be a loyal servant thought a traitor, and to be hunted like a man-eating animal. And being hurt had made me angry. But if there was one thing the Brotherhood had taught me, it was "survive first". So I had. I'd fled, and taken refuge in the ranks of the Thieves Guild. I learned, better than before, how to disappear into the shadows, how to move without leaving a trail of death behind me. I stopped dyeing my hair a nondescript brown as I had in the Brotherhood and let its bright colour hide me in plain sight. The pain of betrayal eased with time. I learned again to trust. Fulfilment ceased to come from the moment when I took a mark's life to the moment when I outwitted it, or, later again, when I defended or defeated it and returned to Modryn for commendation on a job well done. I learned to forget about the Brotherhood. I had been able to pretend it never happened. At least, so it had been until the massacre at Water's Edge. Now it haunted me again, as fresh as the day I had fled from Applewatch.

"You'll always be with me, won't you?" I said, dolefully reaching out to touch the worn spines of the books before me.

"Did you say something?"

I glanced up sharply, noticing now the still form of Blade sitting at the edge of one of the tables, an open book held loosely in his hands. I pushed down the flush of embarrassment that threatened to colour my cheeks, and was infinitely grateful that I had spoken aloud in my mother tongue of Bosmeri rather than Cyrodiilic.

"Oh, sorry. Just reading the titles. Didn't realize anyone else was in here," I lied. I forced away all thought of the Brotherhood.

"Ah. It's no trouble," the Blade replied. He frowned at me for a moment, as if trying to distinguish my features in the fading light. "You're the one who save Martin, aren't you?" he said. I nodded and crossed the distance between us as he rose, offering his hand. I smiled as I took it, pleased by his firm grip.

"I'm Sarasamacial," I said. "Or, if we're being formal, 'Champion Sarasamacial of the Cyrodiil Fighters Guild'. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

The man gave a grin, small, but sincere.

"The pleasure's mine," he said. "Since we're being formal, I suppose I'm 'Knight Brother Achille of the Blades'."

I smiled and kept his gaze a moment longer, then glanced down at the book he had been reading.

"Mixed Unit Tactics," I said, raising the cover enough just to read the title.

"Offended?" he asked, his tone half teasing, half goading, and I smiled again and shook my head.

"Not really. I suppose I should be, seeing how it _is_ a documentary of my people's humiliating defeat at the hands of the Khajiit, but what can I say?" I lifted my eyes to his, crossing my arms over my chest as I leaned my weight on one hip. "I'm really an awful patriot. I don't quite understand why Jauffre wants me as an ally." Achille shook his head with a soundless laugh, reaching over to touch the soft pages as he turned through them.

"Rumour has it Kvatch was liberated because of you," he told me, finally pausing in his browsing on an illustrated page. "Maybe that's why."

I unfolded my arms, straightening.

"It really is only a rumour. I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without Savlian Matius and the rest of his guard." I quieted, remembering the broken, bloodied faces of his soldiers as I left the city. Only Merandil and Ilend had survived besides their captain. It had been a sore day for Kvatch's Watch. I lifted my eyes from where they had rested on the illustration, forcing a smile as I met Achille's gaze. "Anyway, I'll let you get back to your book," I said. "I'm sure Jauffre will have your head if you can't recite it from memory by the time he comes to have his report."

Achille gave an amused snort, but flipped the book back to its previous page.

"It was nice to meet you," he said politely but warmly. "I look forward to working with you in the future."

"The feeling's mutual," I answered with a bob of my head, and then I continued past him to take stock of the quality of the alchemy set.

I passed the remainder of the evening caring for my equipment, brewing poisons and potions to replace those lost at Kvatch, and otherwise preparing for whatever strange events my life could throw at me in the next few days. I succeeded in gaining the respect of several of the Blades by demonstrating my archery skills, although when I went to spar with them we had a good laugh at my expense. I had never claimed to be a swordsman, and I told them as much when Caroline went to help me up off the ground after Pelagius had felled and disarmed me in one clean stroke. It felt good to be building a rapport with them.

I didn't see Martin at all, however, not even at the evening meal. Afterwards, a little concerned, I set out to find him, visiting first his quarters in the Imperial Suite in the west wing and then the small, plain, one room chapel at the back of the fortress. Not sure where else to look, I returned to the library to do a final check on a potion I had left to cool. When I opened the door I was surprised to see him there, sitting in near darkness, his head bent over a book illuminated by the low light of a pair of candles.

"Martin?" I called gently as I entered, not wanting to startle him. He glanced up, his eyes focusing on me in that 'my mind has been absorbed in something else' way, and I immediately felt bad for bad for bothering him. "Sorry," I said, closing the door behind me. "I didn't want to startle you."

"No it's... it's fine." He sat back in his chair, staring down with a sombre expression at the dimly lit pages before him. I crossed over to him, plucking a candle from one of the tables between us as I did so. Placing it near him, I summoned a little magic and lit the wick, secretly proud of myself for being able to manipulate it so delicately.

"I didn't realize you could use magic," he said quietly, eyes on the candle flame. I smiled softly at him as I leaned against the table, the new candle adding just enough light to properly illuminate the page he'd been reading.

"'Can' is the key word," I replied cheekily. "A bit of flame or a touch of healing is within my grasp, but ask for anything extensive and I'm afraid I fall rather short. Most of what I know is just tricks I picked up to make my work easier and a little less dangerous. There's merit in knowing how close your own wounds."

"Ah. I take it you mean your work for the Fighters Guild."

"For the most part, yes." I straightened and pulled a chair out, sitting on the other side of the table's corner from him. "What about you?" I asked. "You worked some pretty impressive magic back at Weynon Priory, not to mention saving my life. You study with the Mages Guild?"

A shadow passed over Martin's face briefly as he rested his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together before turning his gaze to mine.

"I studied with the Guild for some time when I was young," he said, "but that was many years ago."

"So what happened?" I asked. "I'm assuming something happened. Most people don't go from being mages to priests of Akatosh on a whim."

He gave a small laugh.

"No, not on a whim. You are right." He fell quiet as his eyes lowered to the table before him. "When we were travelling from Weynon Priory you mentioned you had made mistakes," he said. "I have also made mistakes. I... know more than I want to about the seductive power of daedric magic. Let's just say that becoming a priest of Akatosh was a result of my search for atonement, and leave it at that."

I looked away, sobered by his confession. I, of all people, knew that who a person was and who a person had been could be two completely different things. I shouldn't have been surprised. There was more sadness, more wisdom, more _knowledge_ in Martin's eyes than a simple priest's. Not that I knew many priests to be sure, but it only took a moment of sharing their gaze to know.

"So all this time you've been letting me walk around beside you, never letting me know what kind of person you are," I said, my voice low and serious. "A daedra worshipper. I can't believe this. I'm so _unbelievably_––!" I glanced at him. He was staring resolutely at the candle flame, looking as if he'd expected this sort of disapproval and disgust. I took a deep breath and finished my sentence. "––embarrassed." Martin blinked and frowned, looking up to see me with a teasing half grin on my face. "Oh, yes. You're the worst kind of person," I told him. "To let a woman run her mouth off for two days about all the things you already know... Dragonfires and Mehrunes Dagon and barriers between Tamriel and Oblivion... simply unthinkable. I daresay my pride will never recover."

He looked rather astonished for a moment, and then he shook his head with a small smile, recovering himself.

"My apologies, friend," he said. "I didn't realize it would cause you so much distress."

"We women have our delicate sensibilities," I explained, sitting straight and feigning haughtiness for a moment before collapsing with a grin into a more comfortable, elbows-on-the-table slouch. "In all seriousness though, Martin, and to change the subject... I came here looking for you. I was worried. You weren't at supper."

"I know. I had it brought to me in my quarters."

"Any reason why?"

"I was reading."

I sat back in my chair, the half smile back on my lips.

"So not only do you spurn my pride by allowing me to be the utter fool, but you snub me in front of your subordinates for a book? And left me alone with Jauffre, no less? How horrible."

Martin gave another small laugh, but it was a laugh that was tinged with sadness and only flashed in his eyes for a brief moment. I let my smile fade.

"The library here is better than any library I've had access to in some time," he said. "I wanted to see if I could find any information on the Oblivion gates opened at Kvatch. What I saw there… Everything I know about daedric magic says that such stable portals are impossible. Yet those gates to Oblivion existed. The old rules no longer apply. As you said, Kvatch is only the beginning of what Mehrunes Dagon will do. If the Amulet is truly the key to restoring the barriers between our world and Oblivion, we must waste no time in recovering it. And I can't sit idly by while I wait for it to happen. I must do something."

His eyes dropped to the open book before him, and I watched him in the flickering candlelight for a moment before speaking.

"You're very loyal to your people," I said, reflecting on my memories of his reluctance to leave those in need. "I didn't expect to find someone as level-headed and determined as you in the future emperor. I thought you would be spoiled, or, at best, whiny, to put it bluntly. I'm glad that you're not. It feels, well... It feels good to be going into this battle with you at my side. I know you'll do your best."

"I don't know what to say. Thank you."

I rose, giving him a soft smile.

"It's all true. Now, make sure you get some rest. You'll need your strength for the days to come, as will we all."

He said nothing as I turned, checked my potion, and made for the exit, but I felt his eyes upon me until I passed through the door.

I woke the next morning to the changing of the watch. Although it was dark in the barracks, my internal clock told me that day had already broken, and I berated myself for sleeping so late. Rising with the other Blades, I dressed, donned my armour, broke my fast, and made my way outside to greet the new day. I didn't see Martin anywhere, but I assumed that if he wasn't in his quarters he was in the library, and I didn't want to bother him so soon after last night.

I was just setting about searching for a way to send a letter to Modryn when Jauffre approached me, worry in his eyes. I turned to meet the grandmaster, hand on my hip.

"Something wrong, Jauffre?"

The old man's face was older this morning, and he nodded in reply.

"It has been over a week since the emperor's death, and yet Baurus has not returned to us or sent news," he said. "I'm beginning to worry for him. He would not take the emperor's death lightly, and I'm afraid that he is trying to hunt down the assassins himself, to atone for the emperor's death."

"He did seem quite upset about it. You really think he'd be so rash?" I asked.

"Baurus in one of the youngest Blades to ever serve in the emperor's personal guard, and I'm afraid sometimes his age shows," Jauffre explained. "I would ask one of my own to go search for him, but I need every hand here to ensure Martin's safety. I apologize for asking this of you so soon after Kvatch."

I shook my head in reply, brushing away his concern.

"I told you to treat me as one of your own, Jauffre, and I meant it. If you want me to go search for Baurus, I will. Besides, I owe him a debt of sorts. I would still be rotting in an Imperial Prison cell if it weren't for him and the others."

"Yes, and I meant to speak to you about that," he said. "But now is not the time." He gave a sigh. "You may find Baurus at Luther Broad's Boarding House in the Elven Gardens district of the Imperial City. The Blades often frequent there to exchange information in an inconspicuous manner." I nodded my understanding and began to pack up my things, slipping them over my shoulders and securing them properly. The grandmaster was quiet for a moment, and then suddenly spoke up. "If you find Baurus, give him my warm regards. Tell him he should not blame himself for the emperor's death. He did well to send you to me."

I smiled at him gratefully, heartened by his words, and secured the final strap on my quiver.

"I will. Have no fear of that. Say farewell to Martin for me – make sure he sleeps. I get the feeling he's one of those who stops whenever he has something on his mind."

A slight grin lifted the corner of Jauffre's lips, and he waved his hand in accord before turning away to attend to his other duties. I quickly went through my own mental checklist, going over the things I would need for my travel, and then set about the fortress to begin my preparations.


	7. Finding the Dawn

I arrived at the capital shortly after the noon hour a day later. It was an uneventful trip. As I entered I noticed the sombre, panicked edge in the air, and I realized that news of the Emperor's death and Kvatch's sacking must have reached all corners of Cyrodiil by now. I was glad that I had given Modryn the warning. He would have had at least a little time to prepare.

Although Jauffre's request still echoed in my ears, I chose not to go to straight Luther Broad's. Instead, I headed to the Waterfront district, where I stopped for a moment in front of a familiar door in the city's wall before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. Although the door to Dareloth's basement was just as I remember it, the "house" proper was not. A hail of voices greeted me, and I stopped, surprised. The door shut behind me with a resounding thud. Fathis Ules, Othrelos, Armand Christophe, Methredhel, and Amusei all stared at me from the table in astonishment. There was a moment of frozen silence.

"You've alive!" Amusei exclaimed, and then everything happened in a blur of movement. Fathis, who had half risen, sat back down, Amusei and Methredhel came and guided me to the table, and Armand sheathed his weapon.

"What is going on here?" I asked as I sat and a drink was poured for me. Fathis cleared his throat and folded his hands together, acting, as always, the ever proper, wealthy, Dunmer. The others took their cue and settled in.

"We received word that you had been captured by the Imperial Guard," he said. "Seeing as you are the right hand man – pardon, woman – to the Grey Fox herself, we assumed it would prudent to rescue you should you not return within a day or two. When it was discovered you were not in your cell, and what the rumours of the emperor and his assassins passing through the Imperial Prison, we feared the worse. We were attempting to chart the best course."

"We hadn't had any word from the Fox, either, but she is probably busy with her own business," Amusei rasped in his gravelly voice. "As you know she often disappears for a time when the Guild is running smoothly."

_I am quite aware,_ I thought to myself. _Do you know what it's like being a high ranking member of two Guilds, the membership to one a secret that cannot under any circumstance be revealed to the other? Ugh. 'What took you so long, Sara?' 'Oh, I'm sorry Modryn, I was just out making sure your auntie's panties were getting stolen in a proper, orderly fashion, that's all'. _

I sighed.

"Well, I appreciate your concern, but as you can see, I've escaped and I'm fine. All I'm missing is a little equipment, and I'm sure that can be returned to me swiftly with the right persuasion and a bit of luck." I eyed Armand with my 'I haven't explicitly ordered it but I want this done anyway' look and continued. "Now, as I _have_ had word from the Fox recently, I would like to ask that I be given the chance to speak privately with Amusei and Methredhel." Fathis looked a little peeved and Armand resigned, but they and Othrelos left without complaint. When the door had finally shut, I turned my gaze upon my two remaining guild-mates. A small smile crept up on my features. Ah, the times that I'd had with these two.

"Do you remember when we first applied to the Guild?" I asked, unwilling to get to the point. Amusei nodded. Methredhel gave a snort.

"How could we forget?" she said. "It was your showing up that made us do that silly competition. I had to wait a whole month before I could apply again."

I chuckled a little.

"Yes, I remember that. You were so mad when you met me outside Amantius' house and I had the diary." She scowled at me, but I still smiled as I turned to Amusei. "And you! Freelance thievery? I knew you were a little dense, but I didn't think you would have gone that far."

"I learned my lesson after the Pale Lady," the Argonian replied with a shudder. "I can never thank you enough for saving my life. I'm ashamed I still have yet to pay you back for it."

I sobered, the smile disappearing from my face as I regarded him.

"I'm glad I did, regardless," I said softly. "You have become one of my most trusted guild-mates." If Argonians could blush, I would have said Amusei was doing so. Methredhel stirred in her seat, and I turned to her. "You, too, Methredhel. We Bosmer have to stick together, eh?"

"I suppose so," she said. "I guess that's why half the Guild hails from Valenwood."

"Or the Black Marshes," Amusei added. We shared a laugh. As the merriment trailed off, however, I was forced to acknowledge my reasons for coming. I sighed, heavily, and Amusei looked on with concern.

"Are you alright, guild-mate?" he asked, and I sighed again.

"I… do have more pressing matters to address," I said, solemn. I took in a deep breath as they watched me, steeling myself for the jump. "I am resigning from the Guild."

"What?" Amusei's gravely cry was mixed with that of Methredhel's fairer voice.

"But you're the Grey Fox's right hand man! You can't just leave!" the Bosmer argued. I met her brown eyed gaze levelly.

"I can and I will. The Grey Fox has already accepted my resignation. I am to be banned from the Guild and will lose all corresponding rights and privileges, nor will I be given pardon should I wish to return. All belongings that I have obtained through Guild activities shall be forfeit, with the exception of my arms, armour, and a few sentimental items. The Fox and I have negotiated this together, and I accept her word."

"You… you have negotiated? You call this negotiation?" Methredhel's hand curled into a fist. "You have done great things for the Guild – the Grey Fox can't expect you to leave with nothing!" I waited until she had calmed a bit, and then took in a breath, once again preparing myself.

"It was I who requested all this."

The woman leaned back in her chair, stunned. Amusei, too, was silent.

"But… why?" he asked after a moment. "Do you not enjoy the Guild? Has it done wrong by you?"

"No," I said with a weak, fleeting smile. "The Guild has been very good to me, almost too good. It gave me a home when no others would, taught me skills I needed to survive, and brought me to people I can trust and care for." I took a sip from the goblet to fortify my strength. "However, if I am going to quit myself of the Guild, I will need to do so with the knowledge that I can't go back, otherwise I will. I'm excellent thief – all of three of us are – but circumstances have arisen where I can no longer remain in the Guild with a free conscience. I've… made a promise with someone that I would give up thievery, even if I'm only stealing from those who deserve it."

I twirled the goblet by its stem, watching the light reflect off its silver surface. Modryn had been furious when he caught me stealing from the rich of Chorrol, even if he grudgingly approved of my Robin Hood tactics after the fact. The Thieves Guild was important to me, but it would get by without me. I could still see Methredhel, Amusei and all the others without it, all the parts of the Thieves Guild that I loved, but Modryn… Modryn was the kind to stick to his word, even if it left him lonely in the end, and he had promised never to speak to me if I didn't give up my illegal activities. I didn't want to lose my dearest of dear friends, and, if I was being honest with myself, I was tired of stealing. I had so much money I didn't know what to do with it. I'd already purchased the grandest houses I could find and filled them with the most beautiful of possessions, but none of them brought so much joy as the sight of a hard cot in the Fighter's Guild hall after a long, fulfilled contract. I took another drink.

"Methredhel, Amusei… I want you to understand that I am not ungrateful to the Guild. You see, I…" I trailed off, uncertain how to proceed. I had never told anyone this, not even Modryn, yet they deserved to know. I had kept it secret from them for too long.

"I was… When I was younger…" The words were swallowed down as soon as I formed them with my protesting tongue. I didn't want them to know, didn't want to have to endure their betrayed glances, their distrustful scowls, but they deserved to. I couldn't claim to be their friend after severing the ties that had brought us together if I wasn't honest with them now.

"If you are going to tell us about your history before the Guild, you don't need to."

I glanced up, surprised first by Amusei's rumbling voice and secondly by the sincere, compassionate look on his face. Methredhel was looking at him, inconspicuously and with disguised confusion, informing me that she did not possess the same knowledge or opinions as our companion. I returned my attention to Amusei. Fear began to pool in my stomach. If he knew, if my secret had been so easily discovered…

"Do you...? How––?" I began to ask, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

"The Fox asked me to look into your history. She had heard some… unsettling rumours. She wanted to make sure you weren't breaking any of the tenets––"

"––You don't honestly think Sara would steal from one of us, do you?" While warmed by Methredhel's ardent defence of my honour, it also saddened me.

"No, never steal," the Argonian continued. "Those were not the rumours." The Bosmer glanced at me, fear flashing in her eyes.

"Kill…?" she whispered, and I looked down into my goblet, not meeting her eyes. She drew back, recoiling from me like a venomous snake. "Is it true?" she demanded, her voice rising in pitch and volume.

"It doesn't matter what she did before the Guild," Amusei said calmly, coming to my defence.

"But if she _murdered_ someone––"

"Sara is our friend. It doesn't matter."

"It matters to _me_."

Methredhel rose, her eyes dark with fury.

"Did you or did you not commit murder?"

I glanced away, searching for a way to reply.

"It was a long time ago, before I knew there was any way to––"

"You disgust me," she spat, and then she shoved in her chair and stormed out of the room. The door slammed, and, in the silence after, I stared at my drink.

"Amusei," I began. "I'll understand if you don't want to––"

"You are my friend, Sara," he said. "And you saved my life all those years ago. If nothing else, that proves to me you are a good person. You could have done to me what the Pale Lady did. It would not have taken much to get me to talk and reveal the location of the book."

I smiled weakly, still keeping my eyes on my goblet. He rested a hand on my shoulder.

"I can understand why you would want to leave the Guild," he said quietly. I glanced up at him, surprised by this confession. "You are a good person. Stealing is not considered good by many people. You have a life beyond the Guild. This makes it difficult for you. I see it."

I gave a relieved, voiceless laugh, the tension easing a little from my shoulders.

"And I always thought you were the dense one."

He smiled at me, his mouthful of teeth brilliantly displayed.

"I used to be. Then I met someone who made me think using my head might be a good idea."

I gazed at him gratefully, taking in every detail of his ageing, Argonian face. How many years had it been now? Seventeen? Eighteen? How long until I would lose this wonderful, wonderful friend?

"Thank you," I said. "For everything."

He gave a nod of acknowledgement, and released my shoulder.

"Like I said, you are my friend. It doesn't matter what happened before the Guild."

An old fear crept back into my stomach, unsettling me.

"On that topic, Amusei… How is it you were able to find out about my past? If you did, then… anyone…"

He waved my concern away, shaking his head.

"I didn't learn anything but rumours," he said. "Apparently you didn't exist before you joined the Guild. At least, no one had any information on a redheaded Bosmer named Sarasamacial."

I sighed. Part of me wanted to tell him why, but my old caution was too strong, my distrust too complete. He reached for the decanter still positioned on the table, and poured himself a drink.

"You don't have to tell me anything," he said after he'd taken a swallow. "Nothing about your past, anyway. I'm happy knowing who you are here, now. Although," he continued, putting his glass down, "I would like to know why all of the Bosmer looked at me funny when I asked them about you."

I chuckled to myself, finishing off my drink.

"My name's a Bosmeri pun," I informed him. "It very poetically says 'no-one', literally 'the one who is no one'."

"So you're saying…"

"Yes. You were asking where No-One was."

He shook his head, gazing into his cup.

"I won't ask who gave you that name. Only you could have thought it up."

I smiled. We sat in silence for some time then, Amusei sipping his drink, and I feeling content, secure, and unbearably vulnerable all at the same time. There was something to be said about sharing a dark secret with someone. I wasn't sure if I liked it or not.

"So why is it you wanted to speak with Methredhel and me anyway?" the Argonian asked, breaking the still quiet.

"I came to give you both a final assignment, a kind of tribute to our early days."

"Oh?" he said, plucking up and looking eager. I half-smiled at him.

"It is an unfortunate circumstance that, when I was captured by the Guard, I was carrying a rather valuable item that the Grey Fox is quite loathe to lose," I explained. "It is of great importance to the welfare of this Guild, and she wishes dearly to have it back."

"You wanted us to go get it?"

"Yes," I replied. "But it wasn't to be a simple mission. It was to be a competition." A shadow flickered over my face. "I don't suppose I'll ever get a chance to tell her."

"She'll come around," Amusei said confidently. "You know how she is."

"Maybe," I answered, not terribly convinced.

"So you lost something valuable. The Fox wants it back," Amusei continued, unaware of my lack of confidence. "Was there anything else to this 'competition'?"

"Yes." I smiled as I leaned forward in my chair and faced him. "The winner was to receive a promotion."

"A promotion? But the only position higher than our own is the Grey Fox."

"Exactly."

Amusei looked confused, but I continued on.

"The Grey Cowl of Nocturnal is sitting in an evidence chest of the Imperial Prison, and the Fox wishes to have it back by – oh, let's say midnight, for old time's sake – and whoever brings it back wins the prize."

"Are you the Grey Fox?" Amusei asked me, but I ignored him.

"There's more. Whosoever returns my possessions to me shall earn the key to Rosethorn Hall and all its goods. If someone manages to retrieve both my possessions _and_ the Cowl, then they shall _receive_ both my possessions and the Cowl. Brilliant, isn't it? All my things in one go, and all I have to do is sit here and be patient."

"Sara, if you're the Grey Fox…"

I glanced at my friend, an eyebrow raised.

"Amusei, do I look like the Fox?"

He frowned, searching for a memory I knew he wouldn't have.

"Well, no," he replied. "But––"

"So be happy with your assignment and get going." I gave him a playful shove. "It isn't long until midnight."

I didn't see anyone else I knew past acquaintanceship as I left the guildhall, so I passed without incident into the salty air of the Waterfront. My original plan to hand over the Cowl to Armand and Fathis and say 'pick a new leader' was ruined, but, regardless of Methredhel's response, I decided I liked it better this way. Amusei had been my guild-mate and rival since the beginning; it felt good to be open and give this chance to him. Besides, if he failed, Fathis would find out, and he was just as good a candidate as any for the guild leadership.

My passage through the Temple and Talos Plaza districts of the Imperial City was quiet, although a guard, one of Hieronymous Lex's sympathizers, frowned at me mightily as I passed. One didn't get to be a high ranking official of the Thieves Guild without _some_ consequences. Perhaps he would be pleased to know that, despite his initial frustration with the posting, Lex himself was rather enjoying his new life in Anvil. He even had a wife. I smiled to myself as I entered the Elven Gardens district.

Luther Broad's was on the corner of the first cross street in the district. I let myself in with little ado, and was welcomed by the smell of warm bread and sharp ale. There were only two patrons in the House at the moment: Baurus, at the bar, and another man reading in the corner. I made my way over to the Blade.

"Sit down," he murmured as I approached. "Don't say anything. Just do as I say." I complied, choosing the seat next to him.

"Whatever's on tap," I said to the bartender, who I assumed to be Luther. The man nodded and turned away.

"Listen," Baurus whispered to me out of the corner of his mouth between sips of his drink. "I'm going to get up in a minute and walk out of here. That guy in the corner behind me will follow me. You follow him."

"I'm ready when you are," I murmured back inconspicuously.

"Good. Remember, wait for him to follow me. I want to see what he'll do." _You don't have to tell me, Baurus. I know this game better than you think. _I didn't say anything aloud, however, but accepted my drink from the bartender and took a swallow. Baurus stood and headed around the corner down to what I assumed to be the basement, and, after a moment, the man in the corner put down his book and followed. I took another pull from my mug and rose as well. I could have been the man's shadow for all that he noticed me.

The way did indeed lead down to the basement, and I remained behind the corner on the steps, listening and watching from my hidden vantage point as the man approached Baurus, who had stopped near one of the wine barrels. Words were exchanged, and suddenly Baurus drew his blade and struck out at the man who disappeared in a cloud of yellow smoke. _Conjuration._ I drew my bow and shot, catching the man square in the back of the neck as the smoke dissipated. He stumbled and fell forward, and Baurus dealt him a final, finishing blow. I replaced my bow to its former position on my back and stepped forward, avoiding the puddle of blood growing beneath the fresh corpse.

"Search his body," Baurus commanded me. "I'll keep an eye out, in case any of his friends are nearby." He strode past me, and I sighed in resignation as I knelt beside the body. There was nothing unusual in any of his pockets – I struggled to leave his eight pieces of gold behind and lost – but in a pouch he carried over one arm I found a book.

"'Mythic Dawn Commentaries, Volume One'?" I questioned aloud. Baurus glanced back at me over his shoulder.

"Good." He sheathed his sword and faced me completely, taking the book from my hands as I stood. He rifled through its pages, and then snapped it shut with a disgusted look before returning it to me. "I am glad to see you, by the way," he said. "You just caught me at a bad time."

"Truly?" I raised an eyebrow at him, part serious and part teasing. "You sure it isn't the lingering suspicion towards an escaped convict?"

"An escaped convict who has willingly sought out an agent of the empire?" he replied. "One who could get her locked away easy? Not likely. I _am_ glad to see you."

I gave him a look, my lips pursed to the side to hide a smile and my eyes narrowed, but inwardly I was convinced of his sincerity and pleased by it.

"Alright. Considering the circumstances, I guess I'll let you get away with a complete and utter lack of enthusiasm at my presence," I said, teasing. I glanced back at the body. "So, what have you learned?"

Baurus' face grew dark, and his voice was coloured by anger when he next spoke.

"The assassins who murdered the Emperor were part of a daedric cult known as the Mythic Dawn," he said. "Apparently they worship the Daedric Prince Mehrunes Dagon. I've been tracking their agents in the Imperial City." He paused. "I guess they noticed." I let out a snort at his comment, amused.

"You're not the only one who's been busy," I told him. "I found Uriel's heir. He's a priest named Martin."

Baurus' face could have lit up the darkest corners of a Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary. It was ironic, or perhaps fitting, considering there was a fresh body just a few steps away.

"Thank Talos he lives!" he said, enthusiasm bright in his every movement. "Martin Septim, you say… We will restore him to the throne! It is the sworn duty of all Blades."

"Duty for you, maybe. At this point I just want to keep him alive." I paused. "The enemy has the Amulet."

"What? How? Did they take it from you?"

"Not from _me_, Baurus. I got the Amulet to Jauffre and left it in his care, but, when I was still in the wilds with Martin, Weynon Priory was ambushed. By the time we arrived, Prior Maborel was dead and the Amulet stolen. Piner and Jauffre are lucky to be alive."

Baurus shook his head.

"I knew the Prior only a little," he said. "Still… his death will not go unavenged."

"Don't worry. We already got several of the bastards." Baurus regarded me with appreciation. "So. What's our next move, then?" I asked. He sighed and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, thinking.

"There's a scholar at the Arcane University – Tar-Meena's her name," he began. "She's supposed to be an expert on daedric cults. Why don't you take that book to her, see what she makes of it. I'll keep running down leads on the Mythic Dawn network. If you learn anything, you can find me here at Luther Broad's."

"Alright," I agreed. "If you, uh…" I trailed off, trying to think of a way to explain my Thieves Guild situation without giving too much away. "If an Argonian comes looking for me, tell him to wait for me at Dareloth's. He'll know what it means." Baurus fixed me with a puzzled look, but didn't deign to press me for answers.

"If you say so," he said, and then, softer, "May Talos guide you."

"And you," I said with a heartfelt bow of my head. He looked like he was about to speak when the door to the cellar opened. I ducked into the shadows, content to let Baurus deal with the messy scene behind us. He was a Blade and all. He'd figure it out.

It didn't take me long to reach the Arcane University. I stopped briefly at the entrance to ask one of the Legion battle mages if he knew where Tar-Meena would likely be, and he directed me towards the Arch-mage's tower, telling me someone would be sent for her. Luckily I didn't have long to wait, and I had only just tired of examining the soul gems in the display case before an Argonian woman showed up, glancing around expectantly.

"Tar-Meena?" I asked quietly as I approached her, not wanting to disturb any of the others in the tower lobby. She nodded at me, red eyes curious.

"Yes, that is me. How can I help you?"

I inclined my head as a way of greeting, my hand possessively settling on the stolen book bag hanging at my hip.

"My name is Sarasamacial," I explained. "I'm working with a man named Baurus, and he told me to seek you out. We are..." I paused, my caution overriding my desire for knowledge as I glanced around the room in search of eavesdroppers, but everyone seemed absorbed in their own work (not that you could trust mages on appearance alone, unfortunately. They had spells for all sorts of illusions and tricks). I turned back to the woman, hoping Baurus' trust in her was well placed. "We're trying to find information on the Mythic Dawn," I finished.

Her eyebrows – or, at least, the area where her eyebrows would have been – rose in astonishment.

"You know of them?" she said, surprised, but her scholarly interest must have gotten the better of her, for she sobered quickly and continued on. "One of the most secretive of all the daedric cults," she said. "Not much is known about them – they follow the teachings of Mankar Camoran, whom they call the Master. A shadowy figure in his own right." She shivered a little, as if recalling something unpleasant, and then returned to normal. "What do you need to know about them?"

I reached into the pouch I'd taken from the Mythic Dawn agent at Luther Broad's and pulled out the book we'd found, handing it to her. She took it reverently, her scaled hands handling the text with practised care.

"Ah yes," she murmured. "'Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes', wonderful!" She glanced up at me, slight hesitation growing in her eyes as she regarded me. "You have a… scholarly interest in daedric cults, then?"

"You could say that," I said as she handed me the book, and I returned it to its place in the bag. "I need to find the Mythic Dawn."

"Find them, eh?" She shook her head. "I won't poke my nose any further. If you're working with Baurus, then you must be with the Blades. Official business and all that, I understand. Say no more." I regarded her appreciatively, and she continued. "In any case, finding them won't be easy. I've studied Mankar Camoran's writings a bit myself – at least those I could find. It's clear from the text that Mankar Camoran's 'Commentaries' come in four volumes, but I've only ever seen the first two books. I believe that his writings contain hidden clues to the location of the Mythic Dawn's secret shrine to Mehrunes Dagon. Those who unlock this hidden path have proven themselves worthy to join the ranks of the Mythic Dawn cult. Finding the shrine is the first test. If you want search them out, you'll need all four volumes of the Commentaries."

"Where can I find them?" I asked. She gazed down at me, her tail curling as if making some heavy decision.

"You can have the library's copy of Volume Two," she said finally. "But you'll have to come with me to get it." I nodded, and we passed through the lobby doors and set out across the grounds together.

The library was empty – all the apprentices were in session, if the crowds outside were any indicator – and Tar-Meena disappeared briefly into the back shelves, returning with a thick volume in her hands.

"Here," she said, handing it to me, hissing when I went to place the book a little too roughly for her taste into the bag with the first volume. "As I said, I've never even seen the third or fourth volumes," she continued once she was satisfied that I would treat the book properly. "You should try First Edition over in the Market District. Phintias, the proprietor, caters to specialist collectors. He may have an idea of where to locate those books." I nodded gratefully, adjusting the strap on my shoulder to make it sit more comfortably.

"Thank you," I said to her. "This helps immensely."

She waved me away, looking almost embarrassed at my gratitude.

"It was my pleasure. Be sure to let me know how your hunt for the Mythic Dawn turns out." I nodded smartly and bade her farewell, then turned and headed the way we had come.

First Edition had been a much frequented shop in my later Thieves Guild years, if not by myself than by my underlings, as I had gone through a great period where I was strongly inclined to reading anything and everything I could get my filthy, little, Bosmeri hands on. I didn't think Phintias would recognize who I was (as I had usually visited his store after hours and with a lockpick in hand), but it was with a certain measure of apprehension that I stepped into his shop. It wouldn't do to have to explain to Baurus why I was unable to recover any more copies of the Commentaries.

However, my fears were unfounded. Phintias regarded me with nothing but business-like warmth as I entered, even going so far as to flash me a smile.

"I'm Phintias, owner and proprietor of the First Edition," he said. "Look around. If I don't have it, maybe I can get it."

I smiled cordially at him, inclining my head in acknowledgement, and then cast a furtive glance around the room, checking to see if any others were browsing. I stepped close to the counter.

"I'm looking for volumes three and four of Mankar Camoran's 'Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes'," I said once I was satisfied we were alone. "Would you happen to know where I could get them?" Faint surprise coloured the shopkeeper's face, but he recovered quickly.

"I happen to have a copy of volume three on hand," he began slowly, "but I'm afraid it is a… special order, already paid for by another customer, sorry. Gwinas would be terribly disappointed if it was gone when he came to pick it up."

I leaned forward on the counter, suddenly wishing I wasn't so modestly clad in my armour – this would have been easy, otherwise.

"Are you sure we can't come to" – I flicked my eyes up to meet his – "some sort of agreement?" The armour must have been more of a hindrance than I thought, because he actually looked offended.

"I'm afraid I couldn't sell it to you for any price," he growled. "I've already promised it to someone else, and my word is my bond."

I straightened up, looking ashamed.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, feigning distress. "I didn't mean to question your honour or put you in a compromising situation, it's just…" I began to wish deeply that I was in something a little more flattering. "I desperately need a copy of the last two volumes and was just so excited when I discovered you had a copy of volume three…"

Phintias sighed as I trailed off, looking upset.

"Look," he said. "I'd like to help you out, but the cost… I'd have to try to obtain another copy for Gwinas, not to mention his disappointment if he found out…"

I was about to pounce on the bookseller's waning loyalty when the door to the shop suddenly opened, and a Bosmer – noble, from the look of it – strode in.

"I'm here for my book," he said, marching up to the counter and ignoring me. "Mankar Camoran's 'Commentaries', Volume Three. "

"Ah, of course," Phintias replied, looking relieved, and I cursed my luck. "Here you go." He pulled out a heavy tome from behind the counter and handed it over. The Bosmer took it, a gleeful expression brightening his face.

"Thank you, thank you! I can't tell you how long I've been looking for this book!"

"Keep us is mind for any future needs," Phintias said with a smile, and I thought with vexation, _oh, I'll keep you in mind alright. Especially when the daedra are eating our insides._ Turning, I moved after Gwinas, following inconspicuously as he left the bookshop and waiting until he had passed the Legion guards and other market goers.

"Gwinas, a moment!" I called out in Bosmeri when we were alone.

"What do you want?" he asked peevishly in the same language as he faced me, his visage darkening more as his eyes lit upon my face. "You're that Bosmer from the bookshop!" he cried. "Have you been following me? Leave me alone! That book is mine!"

"Be calm; I only wish to make a proposition. Surely we can come to some sort of agreement?"

I stepped closer, my hands open to show my sincerity, but he waved me away angrily.

"It isn't for sale. You'll have to find a copy somewhere else."

I felt my own temper rising. I didn't deal well with those trying to thwart me, and Gwinas' attitude wasn't the best, either.

"I'm afraid that doesn't work for me," I said darkly, drawing myself up and allowing the cold expression of my assassin days to take hold. His eyes widened briefly at my abrupt change in manner, but he pulled himself together quickly and met me head on.

"I won't be bullied!" he said challengingly. "I'm not some pathetic bookworm you can just push around! I have friends, you know!"

Caution suddenly struck, and I narrowed my eyes as I took another step closer to him, suspicion rising.

"Friends," I hissed, "in the Mythic Dawn?"

"I-I never said anything about the Mythic Dawn," Gwinas replied, caught off-guard. "In fact, I don't even know what you're talking about."

"You're in way over your head. Give me the book."

"I beg your pardon?" The Bosmer drew himself up, indignation flavouring his tone. "You presume to tell _me_ about daedric cults? I'll have you know that I've visited the Shrine of Sheograth during the Festival of the Mad! I've spoken with Hermaeus Mora beneath the full moons! I've––"

I didn't let him finish. Frustrated, I grabbed him by the shoulders and pinned him to the cold, stone wall, my face a mere breath from his.

"The Mythic Dawn killed the emperor, you fool!" I said. "Do you really want to be associated with murders such as them?"

The apprehension that had flared in his eyes at my aggression turned swiftly to true fear as my words sank in, and he swallowed visibly.

"What? The Mythic Dawn was the one…?" I released him, stepping back but keeping him pinned with my stare. His gaze became desperate. "Y-you have to believe me! I truly had no idea, I mean, I knew they were a daedric cult – Mankar Camoran's views on Mehrunes Dagon are fascinating, revolutionary even – but to murder the emperor…!" He lifted his hands to his face. "Mara preserve us!"

I watched, satisfied that he was truly disconnected from the inner workings of the cult and resolving not to take him to Baurus for questioning.

"Give me the book," I said icily, "and I'll forget you were ever involved."

"Yes," he gasped. "Of course! I don't want _anyone_ to think I had anything to do with their insane plots! Here, Volume Three is yours." He lifted his eyes to mine fearfully as he held the tome out to me. "What you do with it is your business." I took the book from his trembling hands, flipping through it briefly to ensure it was the proper text. The material matched. Appeased, I let some of the stoniness evaporate from my manner as I stowed the tome away, crossing my arms and shifting my weight to one hip as I surveyed him one last time.

"I need the fourth book as well. What do you know?"

Gwinas' eyes looked shiftily about. He was uncomfortable; it was obvious.

"You can only get Volume Four directly from a member of the Mythic Dawn," he said reluctantly after a moment. "I had set up a meeting with the Sponsor, as he called himself. Here." He reached inside his robes and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. "Take the note they gave me. It tells you where to go. I don't want anything else to do with the Mythic Dawn."

I took the note, placing it carefully in my own pocket before proceeding.

"I'd say that's a very good attitude to have." I remained very still but for the hand I casually laid to rest on the hilt of my dagger. "You did well by the empire with this, Gwinas." I drew the dagger and threw in into the air, catching it by the hilt when it tumbled back earthbound. Gwinas flinched. I smiled at him. "Stay out of trouble, and I'm sure we won't have cause to ever meet again." He paled a little. I sheathed the dagger. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

I turned on my heel and left, heading for Luther Broad's Boarding House. Gwinas watched me, then continued on, shaking his head the entire way.

Baurus was waiting for me when I stepped into the main room of the inn, a mug of ale in front of him as he sat at the counter.

"There you are!" he exclaimed, and he slid off the stool to approach me. "This way," he murmured as he neared. "I booked us a room for privacy."

I tittered silently to myself at the possible implications of his words, but said nothing, choosing instead to follow him mutely up the stairs. Once in our room, he turned to me.

"You know you're not easy to get a hold of," he said. "Your friend came by, the one you warned me of, and I passed on your message. He looked a bit… shady, you might say. You mind filling me in on that?"

"Maybe later," I said with a wry smile as I settled myself on the bed. Then, more seriously, "I have news." Baurus' face instantly changed from suspicious calculation to interested, and he pulled up a chair from the nearby writing desk to sit across from me.

"What have you found out?" he asked.

I told him about what Tar-Meena had said regarding the Mythic Dawn, the Mysterium Xarxes, Mankar Camoran and his Commentaries, and, finally, of my procuring of Volume Three. Pulling it out, I laid it beside the other two volumes on the bed.

"There's also this note given to Gwinas by the Sponsor," I said, retrieving it from my pocket. I unfolded it and smoothed it out on my thigh, and then lifted it near one of the newly lit candles so I could read it.

"_Gwinas,_

_Your interest in the writings of the Master has been noted. You are taking the first steps towards true enlightenment. Persevere, and you may yet join the exalted ranks of the Chosen._

_If you wish to continue further down the Path of Dawn, you will need the fourth volume of the Master's "Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes". It can be obtained only from a member of the Order of the Mythic Dawn. As your designated sponsor, I will pass on my copy to you if I deem you worthy._

_Study the first three volumes of the Master's writings. Look for hidden meaning in his words, as best as you are able._

_When you are ready, come to the sunken sewers under the Elven Gardens in the Imperial City. Come alone. Follow the main tunnel until you reach the room with the table and chair. Sit down. I will meet you there and give you what you desire._

_The Sponsor"_

I looked up from my reading, meeting Baurus' brown eyed gaze.

"What do you make of it?" I asked. Baurus smiled darkly.

"This just might be the break we've been looking for," he said, voice low yet filled with excitement. "If Tar-Meena is right, we can use these books to locate the Mythic Dawn's hidden shrine." He rose. "Let's go. I know that part of the sewers well."

I frowned.

"Don't you think we should wait? Go through the books? The note specifically says––"

"We're not trying to get into the Mythic Dawn," Baurus interrupted. "So I doubt there's anything in there that we'll actually need. Personally, I plan on just killing the murderers and taking the fourth volume, procedure be damned!" There was a fire in the Redguard's eyes, a fire that I understood all too well. I rose.

"Alright then. Let's go."

The Blade smiled at me, nigh crazily, and we left the room.

The sewers were dark, dank, and just as nasty as I ever remembered them being. I scrunched up my nose, and Baurus glanced at me with a raised eyebrow.

"I hate the sewers," I explained unhappily. "There're too many vampires, goblins, and disease-ridden skeevers… and it stinks."

"No argument there," he agreed.

Baurus had been correct in his estimation of his knowledge of the sewers. It took us minimal time to make our way through, and the skeevers and goblins that we came across afforded little to no challenge. After a few minutes, Baurus stopped outside an iron door, turning to me.

"This is it," he said. "The room with the table is just through this door." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I always wondered who put it there." Then, as if realizing he was digressing, he shook his head, muttering something under his breath. He glanced up over at the stairs to his right, and my eyes followed. "I happen to know that if you go up these stairs it gives you an excellent vantage point on the meeting room," he told me. He lowered his eyes back to me, face determined. "I think I'd better be the one to handle the meeting. You'll be my backup, keep watch from above in case of trouble."

I nodded, agreeing. My bow would be much more useful from a place such as that.

"Good. Remember, we must not leave here without the book. It's our best chance at finding the Amulet."

I took in a deep breath, readying my bow and calming my nerves. The fate of Tamriel might hang in the outcome of the next few minutes. I let out my breath.

"I'm ready whenever you are," I told the Blade, and he nodded. I turned to go up the stairs.

"Listen, I..."

I paused with one foot on the bottom stair, turning to look back at Baurus where he stood with an uncertain expression on his face. "I may not survive this," he said. "And if I don't, you must. You must recover the book and find the Amulet of Kings."

I removed my foot from the bottom stair, moving to stand in front of him. I stared up at him firmly.

"We're doing this together," I said. "We faced them before and lived. We'll do it again. Maybe even get payback."

A weak smile warmed the Redguard's features, and he inclined his head to me in thanks.

"I'm glad you have my back." He took in a breath and pulled himself tall. "Let's do this."

I nodded and turned to creep up the cracked, stone stairs, the ominous creaking of the iron door echoing in my ears. A corner of my mind worried on Baurus' position, separated from me and armour-less as he was, but I quelled the thought brusquely, focusing my attention on the mission. Baurus wouldn't die, armour or no; I'd see to that.

Taking a position in a dark corner of the room, I peered down at Baurus – who'd flipped up his hood to hide his obvious not-Gwinas-ness – watching as he settled himself in the lone, rickety chair and waited for the Sponsor. Presently he appeared, his long, red robes bringing a sickness to my stomach and an anger to my heart that I knew Baurus was sharing. _The Mythic Dawn._ They'd pay for what they did to Uriel, to Kvatch, to everyone in the Empire.

The Sponsor settled himself at the head of the table, his haughty, Bosmeri features set into a sick smile.

"So, you want to become one of Mehrunes' Chosen?" he began. "The Path of Dawn is difficult, but the reward is great…"

Movement caught my eye, and I removed my attention from the Sponsor to note a pair of Mythic Dawn agents heading towards me from across the way. I tensed and clenched my bow. It was times like these that I wished I had a better grasp of magic – I could simply disappear and make this easy. As it was, I had about seven seconds before they picked me out of the gloom sitting at the top of the stairs.

Gritting my teeth, I smoothly raised my bow and aimed, hoping that Baurus could take care of himself. Steeling my resolve, I shot. The Mythic Dawn agent on the left fell with a gurgle, an arrow cleanly lodged in his throat above his armour.

"There's someone else here!" The remaining agent cried as I readied another arrow.

"You were supposed to come alone!" the Sponsor roared, knocking over his chair in his haste to rise. The yellow magic of conjuration enveloped him, and then he was leaping forward towards Baurus, longsword and sizzling magic in hand. I forced my attention away, focusing on the battle mage in front of me. Dodging a bolt of lightning, I returned fire with my bow, watching as it bounced off the protective magical barrier of my opponent. Again magic roared my way, and again I sidestepped it, but the seething heat of the fireball singed my hair as it passed me, and I cringed away, frightened. The agent barrelled down towards me, mace swinging wildly, and I had barely time to pull an arrow from my quiver before he was upon me.

I jumped back, avoiding a swing, and hastily shot the arrow at his thigh – it ricocheted off his barrier. I ducked as he swung again, and rolled to the side of the narrow passage as the mace came crashing down. Scrambling half upright, I pushed past him while he was still recovering from his strike, and whirled around and readied my bow. I fired three arrows in quick succession. The first turned protestingly from its path, the second broke the barrier but bounced uselessly off his armour, and the third finally found its mark in the weakly protected flesh under his arm as he raised it to fire a spell. The agent staggered back, looking disbelievingly at me, and I put a final arrow between his eyes. Spinning around with arrow notched and ready, I prepared to assist Baurus with his own battle, but the Blade had already won and was standing victorious over his slain enemy. Returning my arrow to its quiver, I quickly navigated the stairs and went to his side.

"That's three more that won't be reporting back to their master," he said as he wiped the blood off his sword on the Sponsor's robes, a look of disgust on his face.

"Are you alright?" I asked, eyeing him for injuries. He nodded, sheathing his weapon.

"Yes, although that could have gone smoother," he said. "Still, I can't say I minded killing a few more of those bastards. Come on. Let's grab the book and head back to Luther's."

I agreed, and we left.

* * *

We sat in our room at the inn, poring over the volumes of Commentaries.

"I don't get it," Baurus complained, tossing Volume Three on the bed. I scowled at him, reaching forward to right the ruffled pages. These books were evil, yes, but they were still ancient relics. They deserve proper treatment… at least until they'd given up their secrets.

"Maybe we should go see Tar-Meena," I offered, shutting my own tome. "She may know something that could unlock the mystery."

"Maybe," replied Baurus, getting up to pace. I packed up the Commentaries, carefully stowing them in the stolen book bag and setting it on the floor beside the bed. With that finished, I straightened, stretching.

"Either way, we should probably send word to Jauffre," I said. "He's most likely worrying his head off about us right now – he was desperate enough to ask me to find you, after all."

"Tell me again why you refused his offer of sisterhood?"

I sighed, leaning back against the headboard.

"It's… complicated, Baurus."

"So explain it to me."

I lifted my head to meet his gaze, frowning at him.

"Since when are you so concerned about my motivations? You were happy enough to take the emperor's word and trust me earlier."

"I still do," Baurus assured. "It's just that, well... We hardly know anything about you. You fight well, you work for the Fighters Guild, you can give and follow orders, and... that's about it. No history, no explanation of why you were in that jail cell, no reason as to why you're helping us––"

"Isn't wanting to stop Tamriel from being destroyed by Mehrunes Dagon and securing my own existence reason enough?"

A smile tugged briefly at the corner of Baurus' lips.

"Maybe," he said. "But that still isn't answering any of my other questions."

I sighed resignedly, recognizing that the Blade wasn't going to let the subject drop, and sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed.

"Alright," I said, resting my elbows on my knees. "I'll play question and answer. Answer number one, my history: I'm the champion of the Fighters Guild. It's a recent promotion and I'm not entirely sure I deserve it, but I've been with the Guild for the past seven years and Modryn says I'm champion, so I'm champion. Before that, well... I admitted it to Martin, so I guess I can admit it to you: before the Fighters Guild, I didn't exactly play by the rules. Let's just say I had a brief stint with the Thieves Guild and leave it at that."

Baurus' eyebrows rose dramatically.

"You were a member of the Thieves Guild?"

I shrugged nonchalantly.

"For a while." –_ right, _my inner voice scoffed, _a "while"_ – "I'm out of it now though. Modryn caught wind of it and got his armour all in a tangle."

"You sound pretty unconcerned about having been a member of an illegal guild."

"Most don't even acknowledge its existence," I replied. "Besides, I was a good thief, in both senses of the term. Nobody ever caught me stealing, and I only took from those who could afford it. The beggars and the poor are under the protection of the Guild, and even if they weren't I wouldn't have taken from them. That's just tasteless and cruel."

Baurus shook his head, his expression telling me he was both amused by my words and chastising himself for being amused.

"If nobody caught you stealing," he said, catching the obvious hole in my explanation, "why were you in the Imperial Prison?"

I felt a grin tug wryly at my lips. I looked away good-naturedly, playing it up and indulging him.

"Well… I guess I can't say I was _never_ caught. There were a few times when I first started out when I bungled things, and, well… I guess you could say that, even though I was never caught later on in my career, the Guard knew I was involved. It didn't take much for them to have an excuse to bring me in." I gave him a flat glance. "The ironic thing is that I wasn't even really part of the Guild anymore when they imprisoned me. Apparently they hadn't heard much of my workings with the Fighters Guild either, for they didn't believe me – or didn't care – when I told them as much. Usually I would have just picked the lock or bribed them, but…" I shrugged. "No such luck at the time. I've started carrying lockpicks around again, but not for my old reasons."

Baurus shook his head again, obviously torn between laughing at the comedy of my former situation and chastising me for my frivolous outlook on the law.

"You really are unrepentant, aren't you?" he said finally, fixing me with his brown eyed stare.

"Absolutely," I replied with a cheeky grin. "I loved every moment of it. The Thieves Guild was like my second home. "

Baurus looked genuinely curious.

"So then where's your first?"

The grin and good cheer that had filled me faded so quickly I didn't even realize it had vanished until I noticed Baurus' worried expression.

"Gone," I said quietly, my eyes on the floor. "It's been gone a long time. My first family…" I stopped to rephrase. "My parents were killed when I was eight. The family that took me in after that was murdered when I was in my twenties." Faces swam before my eyes, accusing, bewildered. I tried to shut them away.

I looked up at Baurus.

"The time before the Thieves Guild is not a pretty page in my personal history book," I said. "I understand you curiosity and I'm flattered by your interest, but it's something I'd rather not talk about, if you don't mind."

"No, I'm… I'm sorry. I wouldn't have said anything if I had known."

"I know," I replied kindly, and lifted my bootless feet back onto the bed, pulling my knees up to my chin as I settled my back against the headboard. "Don't let this ruin the mood though," I said, throwing a not quite convinced smiled his way. "That all happened years ago. I can forget it when I want to."

Baurus frowned at me.

"Exactly how old are you, Sara?"

I shot him a look, my eyes dark and my eyebrows low.

"Don't you know better than to ask a woman her age?" I didn't let him reply, although I did relish the startled look on his face. "We're all seventeen anyway, you know." I smiled as I watched him search for a way to properly respond to my statement. I turned my head forward, still chuckling to myself. "I'm forty-four," I admitted.

Baurus looked momentarily surprised, and shook his head disbelievingly.

"Forty-four…" he echoed. He looked up at me. "You look like you're twenty, if that."

I gave him my crooked half-smile and gestured to my ears.

"We Bosmer tend to age a little differently than Men," I informed him. Baurus instantly looked embarrassed.

"I know that! It's just…" He trailed off, shaking his head again. "You're going to think I'm an idiot, but I always imagined… I don't know what I imagined." He looked up at me, eyes honest. "I've never really worked closely with Mer before," he confessed. "I've spent most of my life training and working for the emperor, and the Blades don't have many – if any – elves in their ranks. There's a difference between knowing something and seeing it with your own eyes."

I nodded a little, sympathizing. I looked back at the wall across the room from me, studying the wood's knots and grains.

"It's strange," I admitted. "Sometimes I don't know how to feel about my age. I've known enough elves to firmly recognize I'm young by elven standards, yet most of my life has been spent among Men. I feel odd because of it. Those I have befriended have aged in the time I have known them, while I have remained unchanged. I feel like I'm falling behind. " _If Lucien were alive now, he would be over fifty. More than half his life would have been spent._

Baurus was quiet as he regarded me, something moving in his dark brown eyes.

"What about your elven friends?" he asked. I shook my head lightly.

"I had a few," I confessed. "But most have either died, or moved on." _Sithis have mercy! You disgust me! _"Modryn is about the only elven friend I have left."

"You do talk a lot about him. You must be close," the Blade observed. I gave a small smile, looking down into my lap.

"Probably the closest friend I have. Modryn has done more for me than anyone else. He takes me as I am. To him I'm not "the champion" or "thief" or anything special. I'm just... me. Saracamacial. It's nice."

"He sounds like a good man. He's in the Fighters Guild?"

I glanced up at him.

"He's the Master," I said with a laugh, surprised that Baurus didn't know. Wouldn't the Blades have been informed of the change in leadership? The Fighters Guild wasn't as influential as the Mages Guild, perhaps, but it was still the Fighters Guild of _Cyrodiil_. "Modryn's been guild Master for about a month now. I'm only champion because someone had to take his place."

"I'm guessing champion is a high rank."

"Only the highest after the Master," I said, teasing. "There's only one in the Guild. It is as the name implies. Modryn – the Master – runs the Guild; the champion defends it."

"So that's where you learned to wield the bow so well."

"More or less," I said, the lie oily on my tongue. I pushed the shadow of guilt that crept up on me away, unwilling to be its thrall. So I had been an assassin. So I wasn't telling Baurus. I didn't need to feel guilty about it. I forced a tremolo of laughter into my voice, simulating good humour in the hopes that it would become fully real. "When it comes to swordsmanship, however, I'm horribly lacking. Modryn says I don't deserve to be the champion if I can't hack off or bash in the head of something without my bow, so I have to learn." I shrugged my shoulders melodramatically. "Before I became the champion, I never used to carry around a sword. Throws me off balance. Too heavy having it hanging off the one side."

Baurus smiled, shaking his head.

"If you'd like I could give you some pointers," he offered. "The Blades receive thorough training in the use of the Akaviri katana."

"Thanks, Baurus. I might just––" I broke off mid-sentence as a yawn swallowed my words. "Sorry," I said once I'd regained control of my mouth. "It's been a long day. Hard to think I was halfway from Cloud Ruler only this morning."

"You've been on the road all this time? Why didn't you say anything?"

I shrugged.

"It never came up. Besides, we had things to do. It's not like I'm going to let fatigue stop me. I battled all through the night liberating Kvatch after I'd travelled there from Chorrol. This is nothing."

"Running around half asleep is going to get you killed," Baurus reprimanded, but then his tone and expression softened. "Let's call it a night," he said, and I couldn't agree more.


	8. Camoran

I woke before Baurus, although whether or not that was because of my own internal clock or the stiffness of my neck I wasn't sure. I had adamantly refused to take the only bed, and so had spent the night on the floor with a blanket and the pillow. Either way, the Blade rose swiftly as I began to move about, embarrassment colouring his face when he realized I was up first, or, as I thought a moment later, at the knowledge he was setting eyes on the woman who'd shared his room for a night. Normally I did not think of such things, seeing as I had spent far too many non-chaperoned, innocent (and not-so-innocent) nights with men, and for a moment _I _felt embarrassment, which perturbed me to no end.

"I'll meet you downstairs," I said to him, a hand on the door. "I have the books." I didn't wait for a reply.

Breakfast at Luther Broad's was a simple affair. We ate with practised efficiency, loaded up what gear we had, and set out for the Arcane University. Fortunately we were able to commandeer an apprentice upon our arrival, and we set him on his way to find us Tar-Meena while we waited in the Arch-Mage's lobby. She appeared shortly, and I risked a furtive glance around the lobby as I opened the flap to the book bag and showed her the two new volumes. Her eyes lit up like torch with too much pitch.

"Camoran's Commentaries Volumes Three and Four!" she squealed, scaled hands bunching into fists and coming to hover beside her cheeks in her excitement. If I hadn't known better, I would have sworn she'd gone back in time by about thirty years or so – the similarities to a little girl seeing her first puppy were remarkable. "Where did you get them? _How_ did you get them? And so quickly? Please, may I take a look? Oh, I can't believe this is happening! Marvellous!"

"Tar-Meena," Baurus cautioned, his dark eyes flicking to the other mages who were beginning to glance over, and she caught herself, straightening from where she had begun to bend over the book bag, and uncurling her fists and smoothing one straight hand over the golden horns at the side of her head.

"Ahem. Ah, yes. You'd better come with me. This might take a while."

As I had done the day before, Baurus and I followed the Argonian mage to the library, where she showed us into a sheltered nook readied with table, parchment, and chairs.

"Please, sit." She invited us with a gesture at the chairs. As I sat I noticed the first two volumes of Camoran's Commentaries stacked on the table beside her. Tar-Meena noticed my gaze and gestured at them, her tail flicking back and forth.

"I scrounged up copies of the first two volumes from my colleagues," she explained, "and I spent a little time rereading them while you were away. Mankar Camoran is a fascinating writer." She paused to slowly shake her head once. "Undoubtedly insane, but fascinating." She slid into her seat, pulling the first volume to her and opening its weathered pages. "It is common for esoteric cults such as the Mythic Dawn to put hidden messages within their sacred writings," she said, eyes bright. "In effect, simply by finding the shrine, prospective members have already passed the first test on the road to "enlightenment". You piqued my curiosity about this puzzle yesterday, and so I've been studying the texts, trying to find an answer. If my intuition is correct, the first words of each paragraph are the key; however, without the last two books, I couldn't be certain." I thought I saw a hint of the enthusiastic, little girl return in her demeanour as she extended a hand across the table towards me and the book bag, and I hid a smile as I dug down and retrieved them.

"They're all yours," I said as I handed the two volumes over, and her eyes flashed with undiluted excitement. Biting her lower lip in a most un-Argonian display of anticipation, she laid all four volumes out across the table and opened them one by one, turning them all to their first pages. I tried to make sense of the words from my upside down position and failed miserably.

"Hmm…" she murmured, childish excitement giving way to scholarly study. "Yes, yes, I think I have it. Here, write this down." I scrambled for a piece of parchment as she began reciting letters, splattering an unsightly blotch of ink on the page in my haste, and began transcribing what the mage called out as she read along. When she finished the final letter of the final volume, I put down the quill with nervous anticipation to see what my writings had spelled: _Green Emperor Way Where Tower Touches Midday Sun_.

"You are familiar with Green Emperor Way? The gardens around the Imperial Palace?" Tar-Meena asked excitedly, looking up. I nodded. So did Baurus.

"Something must be revealed there at noon," he said, studying the words as if they would somehow reveal more knowledge.

I frowned. It wasn't possible for the Mythic Dawn to have a shrine to Dagon in the city, could it? No. If they did, I would have known about it. I would have had to know about it.

Tar-Meena sighed.

"I've half a mind to go down myself and see what's there," she said longingly, her red eyes on the page. "But I've a sneaking suspicion whatever is down there will lead to no good, and I'm so swamped in work anyway that I can't afford the time."

I offered her a sympathetic look.

"We'll let you know what we find. It's the least we can do for all your help," I said. She smiled – her Argonian equivalent of a smile, at least – gratefully.

"That's more than I could ask," she said, and with that she began packing up her things. Her eyes lingered on the third and fourth volumes; I knew what she wanted.

"I can't offer the volumes now," I said slowly. "But maybe once this is done I can see them donated to the Arcane University. Would that be worthwhile, Tar-Meena?"

"Donated? To the University? Oh. Oh, yes, yes!" The soft regret that had shadowed her gaze vanished instantly in a renewed bought of excitement. Her hands began to bunch again. "As I said," she continued, "Mankar Camoran's writings are insane, but fascinating. They lend an unmatchable view into the world of daedric cults. The things we could learn from them if given enough time, marvellous! Yes, yes! I would be forever grateful, er…" She seemed to catch herself, drawing herself up and once more running a hand over the spikes on her head. "The _university_ would most certainly profit greatly from the knowledge the Commentaries contain. It would be a momentous gift."

"Then it shall be done," I said, smiling as I watched her suppress a little dance of glee. "The Blades will have no use for them once this is all finished."

Baurus glanced at me sharply.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, and I nodded firmly with an assurance I wasn't entirely sure I could back.

"Positive," I replied, and then we packed up our things and took our leave of the library.

Tar-Meena walked us to the edge of the university grounds, waving to us as we passed through gates to the city proper. I smiled as I turned away, my spirits lifted.

"I like her," I said with a laugh. "The mages could do with more people of her make."

"I second that," Baurus agreed.

As it was still morning and we had time to spare, Baurus and I decided to go our separate ways and finish any business we had yet to conclude. It was agreed that we would meet at the eleventh hour in front of the Imperial Palace. Baurus' recount of Amusei's appearance at Luther Broad's had been on my mind for some time now, and so it was with great eagerness and mild trepidation that I made my way back to Dareloth's basement in the Waterfront District. I was curious to learn how – and what – he had recovered so quickly.

I made my way quickly to the guildhall, climbing the stairs and pushing open the door to the house proper without any detours or distractions. Stepping inside, a flurry of movement caught my ears, and I glanced up to see who was making the noise.

It was the Fox.

"Corvu—" I began, elated, but stopped halfway through the name. No, this was not Corvus, what had possessed me to think so? Corvus was the count of Anvil.

Something itched at the back of my skull, something trying to tell me something else was not quite right, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"My apologies," I said, inclining my head respectfully. "I didn't expect you to be here. Shall I leave?"

"No," he said, looking a little confused. "I was waiting for _you_."

I was surprised, and suddenly apprehensive. Had I forgotten about a summons I'd received? Would he be angry with me?

As I sat, I noticed him smiling, his sharp, Argonian teeth on fair display. Again the itch settled in at the back of my skull. Had he always been an Argonian? Yes, he must have, it didn't make sense if he wasn't, and yet…

He sat, smiling at me for a moment longer, and I began to grow terribly uncomfortable. Did he wish me to speak?

"Sara," he said, surprising me with the use of my shorter, more intimate, nickname. "It's me, Amusei."

My eyes widened for a moment. Yes! That made sense! I had given him the task of...

I knew I had just had a revelation, but now, for the life of me, I couldn't remember what it was.

"Amusei isn't here," I said in reply to the Fox's question. "I haven't seen him since yesterday."

The smile on his face faltered.

"No, _I'm_ Amusei. Don't you recognize me, Sara?"

I frowned at him. Of course I would recognize Amusei if I saw him. I was about to say so when the Fox reached up to his face, fingers grasping at the Cowl. I averted my eyes, not quite believing what was happening. The Grey Fox was revealing his identity to me? That couldn't be true!

My curiosity getting the better of me, I glanced back at the Fox, but he wasn't there. Instead, Amusei sat in the seat where he had just been. I looked around confusedly, trying to figure out just where the Fox had disappeared to so quickly.

"Amusei," I asked hesitantly. "Where did the Fox go?"

His eyebrows shot up.

"The Fox? What are you talking about?"

I frowned at him, utterly confused.

"I was _just_ talking to the Fox," I said. "He was there, sitting in your chair, and I was sure the room was empty…" I trailed off, the pieces clicking into place. Suspicion rose deep within me. I narrowed my eyes, turning them on Amusei.

"Do you have the Cowl, Amusei?"

He nodded.

"And have you put it on?"

He nodded again. I let out my breath in a long stream.

"Amusei, whatever you do, don't put it back on––"

"—I knew you were going to be angry. It was a stupid joke––"

"—it was a fine joke, just let me finish!"

I fixed him with a stare, and he meekly agreed.

"I'm not angry about you wearing the Cowl," I told him in a more reasonable voice. "In fact, that's what I've meant for you to do. If you put the Cowl on, however, I'm going to think you're the Grey Fox and forget you're Amusei, and that isn't going to help matters."

Amusei stared at me blankly.

"You what?"

I sighed and leaned forward, steepling my fingers as I rested my elbows on the table.

"Have you ever wondered why this place is called Dareloth's?"

The Argonian looked at me blankly, not quite understanding the segue, and shrugged.

"Not really. I always assumed it was just a name."

"It _is_ a name," I replied. "A name that belonged to the first Grey Fox, Emer Dareloth. He stole the Cowl from Nocturnal herself, and was thereafter stricken by her curse: 'Whosoever wears the cowl shall be lost in the shadows. His true nature shall be unknown to all who meet him. His identity shall be struck from all records and histories. Memory will hide in the shadows, refusing to record the name of the owner to any who meet him. He shall be known by the cowl and only by the cowl.'"

Amusei gulped, looking down at the grey headpiece he pulled up from his lap.

"Don't worry though," I reassured him. "The curse was broken by the Grey Fox who came before me. That's how you're still able to know my name right now." I leaned back, surveying my friend. "Whereas before the Cowl completely removed your identity from history, even from the minds of your friends and loved ones, its effects now only apply when wearing it. You put on that Cowl, and you gain all the Fox's bounties, infamy, and status, plus a few enchantments." I gave him a wry smile. "Take it off, and you go back to being Amusei. Try to avoid taking it off and putting it on in front of others, though. The magic will ensure they won't make the connection between you and the Grey Fox, but it can be pretty rough on their heads. They'll come up will all sorts of strange explanations as to why you suddenly appeared where the Fox was."

"Ah. That explains what you said earlier."

I nodded, and my eyes fell to the cowl in his hands.

"May I see it one last time?" I asked, and he handed it over to me.

"As far as I'm concerned, it's still yours," he said. "I only put it on as a joke."

I ran my fingers over the soft cloth, nostalgia rising and memories returning. I'd had so many adventures with this thing. I wondered if Amusei would also go on a rampant wave of burglary, revelling in the sensation of hidden identity, excited by the lack of consequence, as I had when I'd first gained it. After I'd gained it and nursed my broken heart back to health, that is.

I handed the cowl back to him, meeting his eyes with soft ones of my own.

"The Cowl is yours now, Amusei, and with it, the Guild. Armand is invaluable; his loyalty is never to be questioned, and he is competent and intelligent. Fathis, too, is a great asset, but you must watch out for any schemes he may be hatching behind your back. He's never done anything to seriously harm the Guild, but he has attempted to skim the top off the profits." I straightened and leaned back in my chair, my eyes still on the Cowl. "Things in Leyawiin haven't really recovered from when S'krivva passed away either, but there's a promising new recruit – an Altmer of all things by the name of Sinyramtil – who may be able to help out with the situation there. If worst comes to worst, send Armand to do a temporary clean up and have one of the higher ups handle the Imperial City. Methredhel, of course, is useful for any thievery or missions you want to get done, but isn't as adept at handling administration as the doyens."

My Argonian friend was silent for a moment, running his fingertips over the soft cloth of the Cowl with his eyes downcast, and then he said in a subdued, quiet voice, "You really are leaving, aren't you?"

My heart went out to my friend, and a pang of sorrow echoed in the space it left behind.

"Yes," I replied just as quietly, just as subdued. "I am."

He rose and shuffled over to one of the nearby chests, from which he lifted a long, thin bundle. Returning to the table, he handed it to me.

"Here," he said. "This is all I could recover from the prison. Fathis is negotiating the release of your other belongings."

I opened the bundle. Inside were my enchanted rings, amulet, and arrows, my bow, and a trio of keys.

"I would have brought your hood and the rest of your arrows as well, but the Guard was right on my tail. I only had time to grab what I thought would be most useful. The armour…" He shook his head. "I don't think anyone could have escaped with that – it weighs a tonne! How do you sneak around in it?"

A smiled a little.

"With lots of practice, and even then with a bit of luck. Usually I change into something more fitting if I'm going to do any serious sneaking."

The Argonian nodded, a smile breaking on his features.

"You're the only thief I know who'd even consider doing such a thing _sometimes_. I guess that's what sets you apart from the rest of us. I'm going to miss it."

"Hey," I said, forcing him to meet my gaze. "I'm still here; I'm still going to be around." I paused. "I'm still your friend."

"Yes," he replied. "I suppose you'll always be that." He turned and reached for a wine bottle, scooping up two goblets as he did so. Setting them on the table, he filled them to a brim and picked up the one nearest to him, raising it to the ceiling. "To Sarasamacial, the only thief ever to sneak in a full set of armour!"

"To Amusei," I echoed, lifting my own cup. "The only Argonian who was also a fox."

We drank together.

* * *

Baurus eyed me warily as I strode up to him from the Temple District gate.

"Something wrong?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

"No, I think something is right," he said, surprising me. "I'm no marksman, but even I can tell that new bow you're carrying is a work of art."

I smiled proudly, unslinging the weapon and holding it in front of me to better show it off.

"I had it custom made in Valenwood," I explained as he gently took it and traced the golden lines that wove around the red bone of the staves like miniature vines. "I call her Celesti. It means "swiftest" in Bosmeri."

Baurus raised an eyebrow as he looked up at me.

"It has a name?"

"_She_ has a name," I corrected, a cheeky grin on my face.

"Well I can see why you wanted _her_ back. She must have cost you an arm and a leg."

"It definitely cost _someone_ an arm and a leg," I replied, glancing all-too-innocently away. He shot me a look that even my averted eyes couldn't avoid. I raised a hand to ward him off.

"Alright, alright," I said, trying to placate him. "Yes, some of the money I used to buy her wasn't mine, but I did do my fair share of the work. The bandit population took a definite dive while I was saving up the funds, and you have no idea the kinds of things I had to do to prove I was worthy of one of their great bowyer's works." He glanced up curiously at this comment, but didn't say anything. "Besides, she's really the only thing I'm keeping from my time in the Thieves Guild. She's been with me through a lot."

Baurus shook his head, handing back Celesti. I took her gently and fondly returned her to her place on my back.

"Sometimes it's hard to imagine you liberating Kvatch," the Blade admitted teasingly. I crossed my arms over my front.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Just wait until I get my own arrows back, too. Then I'll show you then just how deadly I can be."

He smiled, accepting the challenge, and glanced up at the sky, shielding his eyes.

"Almost midday," he said, and I followed his shift to into more serious matters.

"'_Green Emperor Way where tower touches midday sun'_," I quoted under my breath, studying our surroundings. "Where do you think that could be?"

"I'm not sure, but we better start looking."

We split up to cover more ground. My anxiety rose as the sun did, my only consoling thought being that if we failed today, we could always try tomorrow.

I was about to give up and return to the shade of the palace when a shout from Baurus caught my attention. I jogged over, apprehensive and curious, to where he stood, arms crossed, frowning in front of an ornate tomb.

"Prince Camarril…" I read as I walked up, and suddenly I realized what the Blade was scowling at.

A map of Cyrodiil, overshadowed by a rising sun, was glowing red in the light of the bright, midday sun.

"It's showing us where the shrine is," Baurus said, his hand pointing to the elaborate star carved onto the map. "It looks like it's where the Valus meets the Jerall Mountains."

I nodded, pulling out my worn map.

"Might be near Lake Arrius," I replied. "I'll check there."

Baurus glanced at me with raised eyebrows.

"You don't plan to go there alone, do you?"

I tucked the map away, taking my time before I answered.

"We're the only ones who know the location of the Mythic Dawn's shrine. If we die, the Blades are returned to the beginning with nothing – no knowledge, no preparation. One of us has to take this information back to them – we can't trust anyone else to do it – and I think it should be the one who belongs with them. Besides, they know your face better than mine." I crossed my arms in front of me, staring unyielding up the young Redguard. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he chose instead let his breath out in a long sigh before answering.

"You're right," he agreed reluctantly. "You are the best choice to go to the shrine. Martin needs people he can trust at his side, and so does Jauffre. As a Blade, my place is with them. I will go to Cloud Ruler Temple."

I gave a nod of approval.

"Good. It's settled, then," I said. "I'll join you as soon as I know more."

The Blade gave me a nod of his own, and then turned to leave. He paused in mid-step, and faced me again.

"I won't forget what you've done for me and for the Empire," he said. "You are a valuable ally and... friend. May Talos guide you."

"And you," I said with heartfelt sincerity. I would miss having the Blade at my side. He had made for good company and a strong ally. I watched him as he turned and traversed length of the Green Emperor Way, and then, focus regained, scrutinized the map.

The Mythic Dawn shrine to Mehrunes Dagon was indeed located on Lake Arrius, and it was with the setting sun warm on my back that I dismounted from my faithful, black steed to greet the red robed representative as he stepped forward to meet me.

"Dawn is breaking," he said, darkly and simply. I kept my face impassive, echoing back the words I knew he wanted me to speak.

"Greet the new day."

A sinister smile broke upon his rather handsome, kind looking features, and I felt disgust growing in the pit of my stomach.

"Welcome, sister," he said, leading me to the door. "The hour is late, but the Master still has need for willing hands. You may pass into the Shrine." I glanced back at Shadowmere, and then followed him through the opening. I was disappointed to see not an altar, not a sacrificial place of worship, but a plain, drear cave like any other. The shrine must be deeper in. Not good for me. "Harrow will take you to the Master for your initiation into the service of Lord Dagon." We paused at a wooden door, and he gestured to it. "Do not tarry. The time of Preparation is almost over. The time of Cleansing is near."

…_the time of the Purification is at hand! Everyone inside the Sanctuary must die!_

I bit back the bile that rose in the back of my throat, forcing my face to remain unchanged. Too close did the doorkeeper's words reflect those I had heard many long years ago. It was unexpected. Grief lanced through my heart. The faces of the innocent dead swam shrieking before my eyes.

"Harrow waits within," the doorkeeper prompted, gesturing for me to enter and effectively pulling me out of my waking nightmare. "You should not linger here." I glanced at him, shot him a terse smile.

"No, of course not. I will go."

I moved beyond the door and took only a few steps before a Dunmer, tall and holding himself high in bearing, intercepted me.

"I am Harrow, Warden of the Shrine of Dagon," he said by way of introduction. "By following the Path of Dawn hidden in the writings of the Master, Mankar Camoran, you have earned a place among the Chosen."

I allowed a small smile to touch my lips – until I had the Amulet I had to convince them I was one of their own, and if I had been deranged enough to wish to join the Mythic Dawn, this would be a moment I would have been proud of.

"You have arrived at an opportune time," Harrow continued. "You may have the honour of being initiated into the Order by the Master himself." I mentally logged this tidbit away. If I could take out the Mythic Dawn's leader… "As a member of the Order of the Mythic Dawn," he explained with smug satisfaction, "everything you need will be provided for you from the Master's bounty."

_May it serve as your new home, a place of comfort when the need arises._

Again memory reared its brutish head, and I struggled to brush it away inconspicuously.

"Give me your possessions, and put on this initiate's robe."

_Please accept this gift from your new family…_

Harrow presented me with a set of blood coloured robes, and I reached forward with trembling hands to take it. Oblivion take it all, what was wrong with me? I needed to stop remembering. I needed to stop remembering _now_.

I looked around casually for a place to change; the growing smile on Harrow's face made me pause and my insides grow cold.

"There is no need to be ashamed," he told me. "We are all brothers and sisters here."

I stared at him for a moment, and then bit back the shame and anger and began to undress before him, setting my belongings aside in a neat pile as I did so. I would kill him the first chance I had. The people here were murderous and sick, but this… I pulled the red hood up over my head, fighting to keep the fury from my eyes. I could not afford to tip any of them off, make any of them suspicious. I was already in enough danger as it was.

"Very good," Harrow cooed, and I suppressed a shudder and the urge to wash my skin. "Follow me. I will take you to the Shrine."

When he turned away I quickly scooped up my rings and amulet – the only items I could risk taking without detection – and pocketed them. Inconspicuously catching up, I followed Harrow.

The door at the end of the passage opened up into a low altar, braziers set in the corners and banners emblazoned with the Mythic Dawn emblem hanging from the ceiling. The cave tunnel curved around, leading on, and I followed Harrow along it; however, I noted that a room lay beyond the altar, and that a group of agents stood leisurely at its door. That made a minimum of five agents I would have to fight through if all went wrong, and there were undoubtedly more waiting deeper in the shrine. I sent a silent prayer for my success out into the ether.

Harrow and I continued down the passage, him looking confidently forward, and I desperately cataloguing every door, chamber, and Mythic Dawn initiate that we passed, all the while trying to keep out the disturbing memories of my previous life. Our passage took us finally to an inconspicuous looking door, and, with an oily smile, the Dunmer led me into the Shrine.

The Shrine itself was situated in a great natural chamber that had been hollowed out at the bottom, so that we looked down upon the altar from where we stood. Ornately carved staircases reached up from the lower floor to the lip of the outer rim where we stood, and grand pillars were carved into walls. The altar itself was on a raised dais, forcing those who listened to the speaker's words – all seven of them in this case – to look up. Harrow led me down the nearest staircase, and, as I neared, the words of the Bosmeri speaker on the dais met my ears. I wondered briefly if I was looking upon the face of Mankar Camoran.

"The Dragon Throne is empty," he announced, his tongue crisp and his words elegantly formed. "And we hold the Amulet of Kings! Praise be to you Brothers and Sisters! Great shall be your reward in Paradise!"

A chorus of voices rose around me, Harrow's loudest in my ear.  
"Praise be!"

The speaker lifted his arms, his eyes piercing every one of us.

"Hear now the words of Lord Dagon," he commanded, and those around me quieted as he spoke. "'When I walk the earth again, the Faithful among you shall receive your reward: to be set above all other Mortals forever!'" A chill rushed through me. "'As for the rest: the weak shall be winnowed; the timid shall be cast down; the mighty shall tremble at my feet and pray for pardon.'"

"So sayeth Lord Dagon. Praise be!"

I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while the others shouted their worship.

"Your reward, Brothers and Sisters!" the speaker continued. "The Time of Cleansing draws nigh. I go now to Paradise. I shall return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn!"

The followers cheered at his words, and he turned from them, a portal, fiery and writhing like an Oblivion gate, grew out of the air before him. I searched around desperately with my eyes for any sign of the Amulet, but found none. As he stepped into the portal and disappeared, hopelessness sunk into my gut. Something told me it had vanished with him. I had to make sure and, if so, find some way to recover it.

"We have a new Sister who wishes to bind herself to the service of Lord Dagon!" Harrow's voice cut through my thoughts, wrenching back to the present. A woman, Bosmer by the look of it and bearing a strange resemblance to the speaker, gazed down at me from the altar.

"Come forth, initiate," she commanded, and I stepped forward with growing apprehension. In the short walk I had until I reached the steps of the dais, I tried to asses my situation.

There were seven followers here, many of them giving off an aura of magic, and countless acolytes spread throughout the caves. I couldn't risk a full out battle. The chance of them overwhelming me was high. As I mounted the steps and the woman stepped forward to meet me, my eyes darted about the dais, taking in the heavy tome resting on the altar and the bound, unmoving Argonian laid out on a slab before the statue of what I assumed was Dagon himself. I didn't see the Amulet anywhere, but if the book was what I suspected it was…

"You have come to dedicate yourself to Lord Dagon's service," the woman said as I approached, recapturing my attention. "This pact must be sealed with red-drink, the blood of Lord Dagon's enemies."

_The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant._

I started at the memory that echoed her words.

"Take up the dagger and offer Lord Dagon the sacrificial red-drink as pledge of your own life's blood, which shall be his in the end."

_It is a virgin blade, and thirsts for blood. Send Rufio to his death, and the Dark Brotherhood will embrace you as family._

I struggled to keep the look of bitterness off my face as I moved to the altar as slowly as I dared, trying to buy time to think and calm my nerves. I didn't like this. I didn't like all these memories coming to the surface, all these reminders. These people were sick, sick as them, sick and loving and adoring and welcoming…

My hand shook as I reached for the silver bladed dagger. I discreetly flicked my gaze over the nearby tome, my jaw clenching as I recognized the symbols on the cover: the Mysterium Xarxes. My guess had been correct. If I could find a way to take it, maybe it could lead us to the Amulet…

I picked up the dagger, my hand curling naturally around its handle. Seven people. Seven. A hostage. Followers to fight. My things. No bow. Magic. Magic? The book. Yes.

"Lord Dagon thirsts for red-drink," the woman on the dais warned me, her impatience showing. "Sate him!"

I gripped the dagger harder, steeling myself for what was to come. Magic gathered in my fingertips––

––I whirled around and shot my most powerful fireball at the woman, who deflected it clumsily in her surprise. It crashed into the statue of Dagon, and I lunged forward as it tottered, gripping the just waking prisoner and throwing him forcibly down the dais stairs, hurling myself out of the way as the statue came crashing down. The woman screamed as it collapsed upon her.

I had but a moment to collect my wits as I picked myself up out of the debris before I once again saved the prisoner's life, shoving him out of the way as a murderous thunderbolt came flashing out of the dark.

"This way!" I cried, snatching up my dagger and the Xarxes and readying another spell. I fired it off at the dim form of an advancing acolyte before turning, grabbing his arm, and fleeing for the nearest staircase. Our flight was halted, however, by resistance: two armour clad sentinels stood ready for us at the end of the dais; yet, as I raised my dagger to prepare to fend off a strike from one of their heavy maces, fire roared by, swallowing the two in our path. I glanced at my fellow escapee, my respect for him rising as I recognized the tell-tale sign of magic use glowing around his fingertips. I didn't have time to congratulate him, though, as another pair of agents charged us. I could hear more of them coming around the far side of the dais, too, trying to capture us in a pincer.

"Take my back!" I roared as I flipped the dagger neatly in my hand so I was grasping it by its blade. I slung it forward, burying it deep in the neck of one of the assailants. I snatched up a fallen short sword and prepared to engage the other. She was unarmed, and although she landed me with a powerful lightning spell, I was filled with a fury long forgotten and shook off the pain to make quick work of her. Whirling around, I sank my blade into the unprotected flesh of a man's arm, cutting him to the bone. I wrenched the blade free, quickly glancing around for any other attackers. The Argonian was finishing the last one off, so I advanced upon the man who was clutching his mangled limb and stumbling away. He saw me coming and tried to cast a spell, but I caught his free arm and broke his elbow with some effort, cutting off his incantation with his scream.

"Dagon have mercy!" he cried as he collapsed to his knees, unable to use either of his arms. I knelt beside him, tearing off a piece of his robe to bind the freely flowing wound on his right arm. He looked at me with pain-filled eyes, confused.

"What are you doing?" he whimpered between grit teeth. I cuffed him on the back of his head and gripped one of his trembling fingers. I saw the Argonian approaching.

"You're not going to want to watch this," I told him. "Wait by the end of the dais. Don't try to leave without me. There are more of them out there."

The Argonian complied, eyes wide.

I returned my attention to the Mythic Dawn agent.

"Think carefully about how you answer," I warned him, my tone dark and unrepentant as I began to gently bend back his finger. "Who was the Bosmer who disappeared into the portal?"

"I'll tell you nothing, unbeliever," he hissed. I bent the finger back farther than it would go and was rewarded by a loud crack. The man screamed and tried to squirm away, but blood loss – despite my administrations – and pain made him weak. My anger made me strong. I wasn't worried about the noise, either; if no one had heard the massacre, no one would hear this.

"Who was the Bosmer?" I asked again, my tone harsher. I would hurt him to get my answers. Better lives than his were at stake.

I gripped a new finger, obviously enough for him to notice it. I saw his eyes widen by a fraction, but his lips thinned into a white line and he said nothing. I broke it.

"Who?" I reiterated, and the man blurted out, "The Master!"

Snap.

"That doesn't tell me anything. Who is the Master?"

"Mankar Camoran – augh!"

He fainted, and gazed down at him for a moment, my fingers resting on his own ruined ones. _Better lives._ I pressed my hand against his temple and let my magic flow through him. He revived, looking around wildly, and began to sob when his eyes lit upon my face. I reached for his final finger.

"No," he begged. "No more, please! I'll tell you everything. Please…"

"There is honesty in pain," I told him, although something in me struggled against the words. "Answer my questions, and it will be lesser than if you do not."

He broke out into full sobs, and nodded despairingly.

"Where is the Amulet of Kings?" I questioned.

"With the Master," he replied. "He took it to Paradise."

"Is that where the portal went?"

"…Yes."

"And where is paradise?"

"It's Paradise. That's where it is."

I broke his final finger.

"Don't be coy with me," I said as he howled. My hand began to shake uncontrollably. My stomach tangled itself in knots. "Tell me where he really went. Where is this paradise?"

"No!" he wailed. "It's the truth! It's Paradise! Paradise! He made it! Please! Please don't hurt me anymore…!" He dissolved into sobs. I clenched my trembling hand as I watched him suffering; tears and snot ran down his face. It was pathetic. It was pitiful. It was my doing.

I reached to where I had dropped my short sword, my eyes still impassively on the man's face. He cradled his ruined hand to his chest, rocking slightly to try and forget the pain. I could hurt him more, break his spirit until he babbled whatever I wished him to say, but my task had been soured by his despair. Bile was already at the back of my throat. I could not – no, did not – want to keep hurting him, despite his actions. Besides, the calculating side of my mind reminded, the longer the Argonian and I stayed, the higher our chances of being caught.

"Go in peace," I said emotionlessly to the man, pressing my blade against the soft flesh of his throat. He made to struggle away, but with a quick, practised motion, I severed the stream of lifeblood flowing not far beneath the skin. I waited, unmoving – his choking breaths in my ears, his disbelieving stare in my eyes, his blood on my hands – until he died.

With great effort I rose and turned to meet the eyes of the Argonian, who had been staring, transfixed by horror, at the body. Nausea rushed through me. I tried to force it down, to meet the prisoner's eyes unashamedly, but my denial only fuelled it. I turned to the dais wall, leaning an arm against it for support and holding the other to my roiling stomach.

I had not tortured a man in many years. The anger that had fed me during the battle had left swiftly once I'd turned to my darker task. A part of me realized I had been taking revenge on my opponents for the crimes I had committed against my own twisted family, blaming them for reminding me so strongly of my past, but to see the man grovel and weep…

Another wave of nausea rose up within me, and I only just managed to keep my stomach's contents down. I had grown weak, grown soft. My resolve was not what it had once been. I could no longer do everything and anything within my power to get what I needed, what I desired. Sithis was no longer my keeper.

This thought, which had once so often tormented me, now gave me comfort. The sickness enveloping me retreated a little, allowing me drop my one hand. Perhaps I could still perform horrible deeds, but I was no longer the monster who could commit atrocities without a feeling of remorse. Perhaps Modryn had been right. Perhaps I really was changing. Perhaps maybe I could be forgiven.

I straightened, turning my eyes once more on the Argonian prisoner who waited, half-cowering, at the end of the dais.

"Come," I said. "There are more of these throughout the tunnels. We need to be gone before they find this mess." I picked up the short sword, wiped it on my robes, and stepped forward. He hesitantly and fearfully followed.

News of the slaughter had not spread outside the room – whether or not the other Mythic Dawn followers thought the screams of the butchered cries of ecstasy or simply did not hear them, I did not know. Either way, we climbed the steps quickly and passed silently into the hall, our steps nimble and our glances furtive. I was distantly pleased to discover the Argonian knew how to sneak; Talos knew it would have been difficult to smuggle out a full grown Orc – so often the Orsimer seemed to have a strong dislike of stealth.

I slit the throat of a guard as we came upon him after taking a wrong turn, but we were heartened to discover that we had found a storeroom in our ill luck. I had the prisoner dress in one of the blood red robes of the order, and changed my own for one a little less bloodstained and singed. Then, satisfied that nothing more could be done to make us look like followers, I used my weakening fire spell to set the provisions inside aflame.

"Hurry," I whispered as we stepped out of the room. "We need to be away when they discover this."

We slipped away, two peas in a pod, and padded down the tunnel, turning at the intersection we'd misjudged and finding our way back onto a route I deemed more recognizable. We were almost at the first room with the altar when a cry of 'fire' rang through the tunnels. We froze.

"Fire!" A terrified voice called out again, at the same time a new cry of "murder!" rang up from the direction of the Shrine. The followers lounging at the entrance to the far room sprang into action, half of them jumping up and dashing towards us and the direction of the storeroom, the others disappearing deeper into the room. I flattened myself against the wall.

"Protect the Shrine!" an initiate called as he sped by us. His tripped on the Argonian's not quite yet flattened form and stumbled, his flailing arm catching the prisoner and knocking him over. Another pair of followers continued on without looking, but the one who had stumbled glanced back. The Argonian's hood had become dislodged and now dangled off one horn at the back of his head. The agent's eyes widened.

"The prisoner is loose!" he bellowed, and I grabbed the Argonian and hauled him upright, pushing him towards the entrance.

"Run!" I shouted at him, and he sprinted for the door. I tarried a moment longer to launch a fireball into the agent's face, and then I turned on the ball of my foot as I raced after him. Lightning crashed into the earth above me, showing down dirt and loose pebbles. Screams and enraged cries hounded me like the heat in Oblivion. Ahead of me I could see the fleet form of the Argonian. He threw his shoulder into the final door ahead of us, smashing it open, and I saw him tumble into the startled arms of the doorkeeper. I went to summon another fireball, but was thrown off by a whistling sphere of ice that nicked my elbow. I stumbled, catching my balance at the last moment and dodging forwards, kicking the doorkeeper in the ribs as he wrestled with the Argonian and hauling my fellow escapee up as I did so. Magic blasted the ground to my right, and I danced sideways as I put two fingers to my mouth and blew. A familiar whinny greeted my call. Shadowmere came galloping around from behind a settlement of rock, and I more or less threw the Argonian onto her back before launching myself up behind him.

"Fly!" I screamed, and then her hooves were pounding the ground, her lungs heaving, and we were borne away from the infuriated cries of the Mythic Dawn.


	9. So You've Never Had a Special Someone?

I let Shadowmere take the Argonian and I as little distance from the shrine as I dared before stopping to dismount. It wasn't fair to make her carry two of us, and I wouldn't break her trying to save my life. I took the reins from the Argonian, looping them over Shadowmere's head, and began to lead her away on foot.

"Thank you… for saving my life," the Argonian said quietly after a few minutes of travel, breaking the silence. "I was frightened by those people, and you are a… fearsome warrior. I was worried that you might do to me what you did to that assassin, but…" He fell silent. I didn't say anything. He spoke the truth. "…You didn't have to save me," he continued finally. "I don't know who you are, but I owe you a great debt. It would have been easier to leave me behind."

I glanced back at the Argonian, reading what I believed to be sincere gratitude on his face.

"I couldn't let you die," I responded, turning forward again to pick my path through the underbrush. "The Mythic Dawn has already killed enough innocents."

"Is that who they were?" he mused. A sudden shudder shook his frame. "All I know is that they intended to sacrifice me to their dark god. If only I could erase the memory of that hellish place."

A horrible, mutilated face floated before my eyes, a face utterly unrecognizable had I not already known who it was. My person hellhole. Applewatch.

"The memory will never disappear, but, with time, it made fade a little. That is the only consolation I can give."

He said nothing, and we continued in silence once more. Shadowmere's hooves crunched the rock and twigs beneath her feet.

"I am Jeelius," the Argonian said eventually. "I am a priest in the Temple of the One in the Imperial City."

"Sarasamacial," I answered by way of reply. "I work for the Fighters Guild."

"Did the guild master send you?"

"No. If anyone sent me, it was the emperor."

A small piece of dark amusement settled in me as I watched my words sink into the dumbfounded Argonian, and then I looked forward once more and grimly continued on.

It was far into the night when we finally stopped to make camp, and, although I was exhausted from all my recent travel and our fight, I slept little, too anxious that my woodsman's skills wouldn't be enough to hide us from the Mythic Dawn should they come looking. There were advantages to being a Bosmer raised somewhat in the Bosmeri way, but they weren't absolute. We packed camp at dawn, unable to sleep anyway, and reached Bruma later that morning. I left Jeelius outside the gates, anxious as I was to get back to Cloud Ruler and deliver the Mysterium Xarxes.

Shadowmere's hooves made quick work of the snaking mountain trail heading up to the fortress afterwards. My head nodded, half asleep, to the hypnotic rhythm of Shadowmere's steps as we approached the gate when a faint whistle pervaded the air. She danced back as an arrow thudded into the ground before her, and I glanced up, rudely roused and uneasy. Two Blades – Arcturus and Caroline, if I was remembering correctly – were scowling down from the east sentry tower. Arcturus had an arrow trained on me. Caroline called down, her voice cold.

"What business do you have here, murderer? Make it quick or the next one won't miss."

I frowned, wondering why the Blades had suddenly deemed me unwelcome, when I realized I was still wearing the Mythic Dawn initiate's robes. I reached up and pulled back the hood.

"It's me, Sarasamacial," I called up to the pair. They relaxed immediately, if not completely.

"We will meet you at the gate," Caroline called again, and I noticed, as I continued forward, that Arcturus still kept his eyes on me.

The gates to the fortress opened slowly, and I was greeted by Caroline, Arcturus, and Pelagius. Caroline stepped forward as I dismounted. I noticed Arcturus and Pelagius had their hands resting on their blades. A wave of magic passed over me, and I glanced at Caroline in surprise, my attention recaptured by her.

"What are you––?" I began, but I bit off my own question as she nodded to her companions.

"She's clean," she said, and the other two relaxed visibly, their hands leaving their weapons' hilts. "My apologies, ma'am," she said to me with a polite dip of her head. "But we had to make sure it was you. Those assassins are well versed in magic, or so we were told – we couldn't have one of them masquerading as you to get to Martin."

"I understand," I replied solemnly, part of me gladdened to see they were taking such precautions, another annoyed that my return to a warm, safe bed was delayed. "Is Jauffre available for a report?"

Caroline didn't have time to reply, as a familiar voice sounded through the cool mountain air and cut her off.

"Thank Talos you've returned safely!"

I turned to the voice, watching as its owner, Jauffre, marched up in the armour of the Blades and summoning any reservoir of strength I could find pooled in my tired limbs. _Speak of the daedra_. He nodded to the three other Blades, dismissing them, and then turned his attention to me as they returned to their posts.

"Baurus told me of your intentions with the Mythic Dawn," he said eagerly. "Did you recover the Amulet?"

I sighed, not wanting to give him the news I knew must be given.

"I'm sorry Jauffre," I said. "Mankar Camoran escaped with it."

Frustration and distress coloured the older man's expression.

"Please tell me you have some good news," he said. I gave a slow, sore shrug.

"Maybe," I replied. "I managed to steal the Mysterium Xarxes, the Mythic Dawn's sacred text. It may not do us any good, but at least it's a blow to them."

He gave a nod. Grim satisfaction flashed momentarily in his eyes.

"Good, then. You should take it to Martin right away. He knows of such things. He'll be in the Great Hall, reading. He's hardly taken time to sleep since you left."

I felt vaguely frustrated with the priest – I _had_ told him to get some rest, after all – but I hid it under a mask of professionalism… or exhaustion. I wasn't sure which.

"Alright. I'll do that. Just give me a moment to take care of Shadowmere."

Jauffre glanced at the steed and then me.

"You needn't bother," he told me. "You look like you could use some rest. Go talk to Martin, and then find a bed. I'll get Belisarius to look after of her. "

I took a double take at Jauffre, unsure if I had heard correctly until I remembered that there was a Blade here by the name of Belisarius. Nameless laughter chuckled in my ears, amused by the fact that someone even so distant from me as a dead Speaker could make me break out into a sweat. Abruptly I was afraid to go to sleep. If the Dark Brotherhood was haunting me this much in my waking hours, the terrors they would bring when I slept…

"Thank you, Jauffre," I replied, perhaps a little stiffly – an effect caused by my fear – "I appreciate that very much." Pulling my saddlebags down off Shadowmere and slinging them over my shoulder, I made my way into the fortress.

As my eyes adjusted from the bright light outside, a warmth born of relief filled me, casting off some of my previous weariness and filling my steps with renewed vigour. Baurus and Martin, the former standing guard behind the latter, stood sentinel over one of the long tables laden with books, parchment, and a shield, and I couldn't express how wonderful it was to see them. I roughly shoved my Dark Brotherhood memories into their dank corner of my mind, determined to let them haunt me no more. Baurus noted my presence immediately as I strode in, and bent down with a pleased grin on his lips to murmur something to Martin, who looked up sharply from the text he had been studying.

"Ah, you're back," he called out to me. A smile grew on the priest's features as I neared, and I couldn't help but smile back, weary as I was. "I told Jauffre not to worry."

I settled my saddlebags on the bench opposite the two, sidling in to take a grateful seat of my own. Sighing appreciatively, I regarded the pair with a tilted head, the smile lingering on my lips.

"Glad to know someone has faith in me," I said with good nature, albeit tiredly. "Although I never really doubted it from either of you."

Baurus took a seat beside Martin.

"I wish I could have helped you deal with the rest of those Mythic Dawn bastards," he said. "But it seems you did alright on your own." He frowned. "I see you've got a new wardrobe, though."

I glanced down at myself, realizing once again that I was still wearing the initiate's robes. I looked up.

"It's a long story, Baurus. Sufficed to say, I tried to sneak out."

"Tried?"

"Like I said: long story. I'll tell you after I've had a chance to settle in. Speaking of which – Martin, I have something for you."

The priest looked on curiously as I reached into my saddlebag and pulled out the Mysterium Xarxes.

"Here you go," I said. His eyes went wide and he jumped up suddenly and wrenched it out of my hands, dropping it in the centre of the table as if it were a hot coal.

"By the Nine!" he shouted. "Such a thing is dangerous to even handle!" I blinked up at him, shocked, not only by this revelation, but by the fact that my mild tempered acquaintance was actually yelling at me.

"I… I'm sorry," I said, still a little dumfounded. Martin seemed to realize what he'd done, for he looked at me with sudden distress as he ran an anxious hand through his hair.

"No… forgive me," he said, calming. He sat back down, slowly, almost gingerly, as if he were afraid of my potential reaction. "You were right to bring it to me, I… overreacted." He reached for the book, tentatively sliding it off the papers it had landed upon and onto a clear patch of table. "This is an artefact of great evil," he explained solemnly. "I know some ways to protect myself from its power, but it would be best if neither of you touched it." He lifted his eyes to both Baurus and me. "I wouldn't want either of you to be hurt by it."

I frowned, tilting my head a little, perplexed.

"I've been carrying this thing around for over half a day," I told him. "I slept with it under my arm. Are you sure it's of any danger?"

Martin looked worried, and I suddenly feared for myself. Gods, I _was_ tired. My self-preservation instinct rarely kicked in this hard unless something was presently in the process of trying to eat me. Afraid of a book? Psht.

"It is a powerful daedric artefact, Sarasamacial," the priest explained. "It could work all manners of dark magics without us knowing." He frowned as he studied me. "You show no sign that I can see... Are you well, my friend?"

"I'm well. Tired," I admitted, "but well. It was a long battle and an even longer journey."

"You should have waited," Baurus chastised. "You didn't need to leave for the Shrine that very day. If I'd known I would have stayed behind."

I looked over at the Blade, my renewed vigour from earlier replaced by all too familiar weariness.

"I was already too late as it was, Baurus. I'm lucky I got away with the knowledge that I did."

"What do you mean, 'too late'?" the Blade questioned suspiciously. Martin was studying me, his brow furrowed.

"You didn't recover the Amulet, did you?" he said quietly. I shook my head.

"No. I was only able to recover the Mysterium Xarxes. I thought it might be able to lead us to Mankar Camoran."

Seeing the confused look on Baurus' face, I decided to elaborate.

"When I arrived," I began, "there was some sort of ceremony going on. Mankar Camoran, or 'the Master' as the Mythic Dawn followers called him, was giving some sort of speech. He spoke of a place called Paradise, and how the 'time of Cleansing' was drawing nigh. He said he would return with Lord Dagon at the coming of the Dawn. He then opened some sort of… portal, and stepped through. He was gone with the Amulet before I could do anything." I sighed, pushing a strand of stray hair back into place. "They had prepared a priest of Akatosh for sacrifice. Freeing him and stealing the Mysterium Xarxes was the best I could do."

Silence settled on the three of us. Baurus was the first to stir.

"The best you could do, Sara," he said slowly, "is better than most of us."

We fell quiet again. I lifted my eyes appreciatively to Baurus' for a moment before dropping them to the wood of the table once more. There was a distinct air of hopelessness around us.

"Do you think it will be of any use?" I asked after a moment, breaking the silence. Martin followed my gaze to where it rested on the Mysterium Xarxes.

"I don't know," he answered. "I suspect that the secret of how to open a portal to Camoran's 'Paradise' lies within these pages, but I will need time. Tampering with dark secrets, even just reading them, can be very dangerous. I'll have to proceed carefully."

"With all due respect, sire," Baurus cut in. "Shouldn't you leave that to someone else? If anything happens to you we'll have no hope of defeating Dagon."

I glanced back at the priest.

"I agree, Martin. If this thing is as dangerous as you say it is, it might be too much of a risk."

He looked at us resignedly.

"There is no other who can do this," he said. "This evil book was written by Mehrunes Dagon himself, and given by him to Mankar Camoran. You were lucky, Sarasamacial, but the next person who handles this book may not be. I am the only person who can safely decipher it."

"Then we'll bring someone else to read it," Baurus said.

"Who?" I countered, looking at the Blade. "I don't like the idea of Martin putting himself in danger either, but he makes a valid point. The only people who could read this book safely are those with knowledge of daedric practices, and, seeing as our enemies are a daedric cult, that doesn't sound like a good idea to me."

"Besides, we are running out of time," Martin added. "Mankar Camoran's plot was undone only by the merest chance, and his victory remains perilously close. We must recover the Amulet of Kings and relight the Dragonfires before it is too late to stem Dagon's invasion."

"Then what about Tar-Meena?" Baurus ventured. "She knows more about daedric cults and artefacts than anyone at the Arcane University. She could help us."

"That's true, and she has already proven her loyalty," I added, switching sides once again. Martin shook his head.

"Unless she has knowledge of the inner workings of daedric worship, it is unlikely. My ability to protect myself comes from my use of the dark arts themselves. No, I am the only one who can do this."

We fell silent once more, and I pondered the validity of Martin's words. Baurus broke the quiet.

"You… practised the dark arts, Sire?" His voice was hesitant and small. Martin let out a slow breath.

"I put aside the dark arts when I became a priest, but yes, I did," he admitted. "Yet it seems the workings of fate may be seen in this, too. 'The gods can turn anything to good', or so I piously told those who came to me for advice." His voice was heavy with the irony of his next words. "Perhaps I may yet come to believe it myself."

I felt for Martin. I had once known the safety and comfort of devout faith. There had been almost nothing more painful in my life than being betrayed by my one god. I couldn't imagine what Martin felt like being betrayed by nine of his.

"If giving us a key to defeating Mehrunes Dagon is good, then yes, the gods must have that strength," I said, mostly for Martin's benefit. It's not like I believed in the Nine. Well, not really anyway. "If we use that strength to our advantage, we will defeat this invasion. If we trust in each other to do our parts, then we will prevail." I rose, reaching down and slinging the saddlebags over my shoulder. "My part is to do what the Blades cannot. Baurus' is to do what the Blades can. And Martin… if you say you are the only one for this task, then I believe you. You will do what is necessary to protect us." I did not entirely believe my speech, but I knew enough about armies and morale to know that all pieces needed to function properly – and believe that they did so – in order to prevail. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to refit myself from the armoury and" – I glanced down at my attire distastefully – "find myself a new change of clothes."

"Why don't you help her, Baurus?" Martin suggested in his soft spoken voice. "I think I'll retire to my room, for a time. I have been given much to think about, and I will need to prepare."

Baurus looked anxious at the thought of leaving Martin unattended, but appeared to be unable to find a concern large enough to warrant contradicting his lord's desires, and nodded.

"As you wish, Sire," he said, and then rose and came to my side. "Let's head to the barracks, shall we?" he said. "I know where we can find some clothes for you." I nodded and followed the Blade.

When we reached the barracks, Baurus went immediately to a small chest settled against the far wall. I approached as he knelt down beside it, opening it and reaching inside reverentially.

"These were Captain Renault's things," he said quietly, lifting out a shirt. "I don't see why you can't have them. She won't be needing them anymore."

I was quiet as I took the shirt gently, thinking.

"That's her sword over the fireplace, isn't it?" I said as Baurus reached into the chest once more. "The one set apart from all the others?"

"Hers and Glenroy's, yes." He handed me a pair of simple cloth breeches. I took them with the same reverence as the shirt. The hurt from Renault's death must have still been strong for the Blades. It had only been little under a fortnight since her passing. I was both surprised and grateful that Baurus was allowing me the use of her once possessions, and hoped the others would be as practical and unoffended.

"I'd… like to apologize for taking her things," I said quietly. "It was practical, but it wasn't thoughtful of me."

Baurus glanced up at me, a small, sad smile on the corners of his lips.

"I don't really blame you, although I was a bit upset when it happened." He shrugged, his eyes fixed on some spot on the wall. "What you said made sense though. You were more help because of it." He glanced up at me. "Didn't really help the 'should I be leaving a strange convict to take the Amulet to Jauffre?' feeling, though."

I gave him a sheepish smile.

"But you've forgiven me, yes? Come to trust me?"  
"Forgive you? Riiiight…" he said with a teasing light in his eyes. I made a face at him, which he greeted with a chuckle. He then turned back to the chest, his expression sobering. "You, uh…" I watched with fascination as a light flush began to dust the Blade's cheeks. "You don't need… undergarments, do you?"

Baurus' embarrassment and comment took me so off guard that a burst of laughter escaped me. The Blade continued to blush further.

"It's not that funny," he muttered, self-conscious.

"No, no, you're right," I said, stifling my giggles with only the utmost effort. "I shouldn't be laughing. I just wasn't expecting, well…" I attempted to compose myself, trying to ease the poor man's discomfort. "Men usually have a… different reaction when they talk of my smallclothes."

"Do men often talk about your smallclothes?"

I gave another chuckle and knelt down beside him.

"I'm from the Fighters Guild," I reminded, seeking his eyes with my own laughing ones. "They talk about _every_ woman's smallclothes, and more often than you'd like to know."

A slight smile wavered at the corner of the Redguard's lips, as if he was trying not to smile or was still too embarrassed to. I reached over and placed my hands on the lid of the chest, gently urging his away and shutting it.

"However," I continued, my voice calmer, more collected. "I have no need for new undergarments today. Those, at least, the Mythic Dawn were unable to take." I didn't mention how close to a lie that last statement had come. Baurus, from what I was beginning to see, was a chivalrous, protective sort. Perhaps a little hot-headed, more than I'd first believed, and a little vengeful, but chivalrous and protective nonetheless.

"I noticed Celesti was missing," Baurus said, bringing me out of my thoughts. "I wondered what had happened to her."

I sighed, standing, and he rose with me.

"The Mythic Dawn took her, along with the rest of my equipment. I'd hoped to infiltrate and recover the Amulet without a fight, but…" I trailed off.

"Yes," he said. "There's blood in your hair. I assumed it wasn't yours, but wanted to ask you about it anyway."

I didn't want to speak of it. It was enough that Baurus knew of my time with the Thieves Guild and of my origins from within the Imperial Prison. He didn't need to know that the blood in my hair was most likely not of my own, but of my tortured victim's, and I was much too tired to be sure of my ability to keep that secret should he begin asking questions.

Baurus must have seen the shadow that crept across my face, for his brow knit in concern.

"Are you alright, Sara? You aren't hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm fine, Baurus. Just tired, that's all."

"You should get some sleep then. Everyone's out on patrol. There'd be no one here to disturb you."

"No," I replied, perhaps a little too quickly. If I went to sleep now… _she_ would be there, waiting, lurking in my dreams, biding her time until she could strike when I was defenceless. I had tortured a man. She would not pass up the chance to torment me with that knowledge. And who knew what else I might dream, with the Dark Brotherhood so present in my mind?

"I thank you for your concern, but I'm fine. I have some potion – I'll take a bit of that and I'll be as good as new. I have far too much to do to sleep now."

Baurus studied me sceptically.

"Like what?" he asked. "Martin hasn't even begun working on the Mysterium Xarxes, Jauffre and the other Blades have the situation under control… Unless you've had word from your Guild, there's nothing. Besides, you've just come from battle. You've earned a little rest."

"No," I said again, waving his justifications away. "I can't. I can't sleep. I have to refit myself. I have to get changed." I glanced around, trying to think of better, more legitimate excuses. "I have to––"

"It's the nightmares, isn't it?" I turned my eyes to Baurus, my words stilled. "That night at Luther Broad's," he explained, looking sheepish. "You were tossing and turning all night. And you… well, you talked."

Fear clutched at my stomach, its grip cold and clammy. What had I said? What had he learned?

"You shouldn't have listened." I said, only my years of training keeping the panic out of my voice.

"I didn't mean to," he said, looking shamefaced and defensive all at once. "My shoulder was aching because of a spell one of those Mythic Dawn bastards threw at me, and I was having trouble sleeping. You were making a lot of noise. I almost woke you up."

It was my turn to go red. Oblivion take whatever it was that was happening to me. I knew what was giving me nightmares, and it had all transpired twenty years ago. It was supposed to be behind me. Why was I being tormented now? Why was it happening when I was so exposed?

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" I asked, still fighting to keep my tone even. How could he keep this from me? I could have… he could have… A wave of sickening terror washed through me. If I'd said anything incriminating, my life could hang in the balance. All it would take was one careless word from him in the wrong ear.

"I didn't want to embarrass you," the Blade said in response to my question. "I thought it was a onetime thing." I looked away, unwilling to let him see the fury and fear in my eyes. "Sara, I know we haven't known each other very long, but I'm… I want you to know I…" The Redguard stopped as he groped for words. "The Blades have a saying," he said, continuing. "'Concern for one is concern for all. Stand together else we should fall'. It's a bit over the top, but true. If there's something bothering you, we can help."

Some part of me appreciated Baurus' offer, but fear made my defences high and my tongue sharp.

"Lest you have forgotten," I replied scathingly before I could think, "I am not a Blade."

"No," he said, calmly accepting my scorn. "But you act like one, and I trust you like any of my other knight sisters and brothers."

I blinked up at him, taken aback. The sincerity in his eyes frightened me. I looked away again quickly. I didn't deserve his trust. Not entirely.

"There's nothing you can do to help me with this, Baurus," I said quietly. "Just… tell me what I said. Please."

Baurus was silent a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to another.

"I don't really know," he admitted eventually. "At least, for most of it. You were speaking another language."

"Bosmeri," I explained absentmindedly, my eyes fixed on the floor beyond him. "It's my mother tongue. I was born in Valenwood." Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw Baurus' eyebrows rise.

"I never knew," he said. "I assumed you were from Cyrodiil. Your accent is perfect."

"I've lived mostly in Cyrodiil," I clarified. "My mother fled here when I was young."

"Fled?"

"It's a long story."

"You seem full of long stories today."

We fell silent, my unwillingness to share building a barrier between us.

Eventually Baurus sighed.

"Alright, so you're not going to tell me anything, and you're not going to sleep," he said, his tone light and offhand despite his obvious frustration at being denied an answer. "Can I at least have your word that you'll take it easy for the rest of the day?"

I glanced up at him, surprised and confused by his lack of insistence, and wondering if it was going to come back to bite me later. His brown eyes were warm and comforting, however, so I shrugged off my concern for the moment.

"You have my word that I'll take it easy. By my definition of "take it easy", of course."

"Shouldn't have expected a straight promise from you," he said, a teasing light in his eyes. He nodded his head towards the door. "I'll meet you down in the armoury, alright?"

I nodded my agreement as I held my new old clothes to my breast. Baurus turned to leave and began to make his way out of the room.

"Baurus," I called after him as he reached the door, my voice devoid of all our earlier gaiety. He stopped, one hand resting on the door frame as he faced me.

"Yes?"

"…Thank you."

A shadow of a smile hovered on his lips, and he inclined his head to me in a gesture of acceptance. Then he turned away, and was gone.

I found myself in the armoury a few minutes later, being strapped in to a set of the Blade's heavy armour.

"Baurus, I can't wear this," I said as I adjusted the cuirass over my slight frame. I felt like I was swimming in it, but it was the smallest piece of armour we could find. Renault's sleeves and pant legs had also required several roll ups to make them the right length for me. Baurus hadn't been kidding when he'd said he'd never heard of a Bosmeri Blade before.

"Sure you can," Baurus replied, helping me do up a buckle that I couldn't reach with any ease. "It's either that or nothing. I'd prefer not to see you in nothing."

"Again, not the response I usually get from men."

He paused as he glanced up at me, a chastising remark obviously upon his tongue in addition to the slight discomfiture. I decided that a part of me liked making him behave like a fourteen year old, tongue-tied youth.

"I think I'm going to have to accompany you back to the Fighters Guild," he said, returning to his work, "and give those men a few lessons in chivalry."

"You'd be there for a while. I don't think they'd know chivalry if it bit them in the you-know-what."

"And they claim to be a protective force of Tamriel? How can they protect anyone if they can't treat them with respect?"

"It's easy," I told him cheekily. "You grab a sword, hit whatever it is you're paid to hit, and say 'thank you' when they give you the gold. Besides, we know how to dole out respect… mostly. It's just chivalry that's dead. Anyway, I'm sure you Blades are just as bad. Caroline and Jena probably have a time of it fighting off all you men."

Baurus straightened, his efforts with the buckle completed.

"I wouldn't necessarily say that," he replied. "They're more likely to get satisfaction out of reporting one of us than doing anything… unladylike. They're Blades after all. Duty first, right?"

I frowned at him, crossing my arms as I did so and becoming more annoyed with how difficult the cuirass made the gesture.

"Why would they report you?" I asked.

Baurus turned back, reaching for the Akaviri sword we'd selected to replace my missing one before answering.

"Fraternization isn't tolerated among the upper ranks of the Blades. They don't want us torn between protecting the emperor and protecting our lovers." He handed the sword out to me, and I took it, thinking.

"You aren't allowed any kind of relationship at all?" I asked, my eyes finding his as I sheathed the blade. "Not even outside the ranks?"

"It's… frowned upon, but no, families outside the Blades are grudgingly accepted. It's not like we have much time for love, though. The Blades who serve publicly have often spent their entire lives proving their skill and loyalty to the Grandmaster, even more so for those who serve in the Emperor's personal guard."

I thought about that as I buckled on my quiver and settled my bow across my back. Jauffre had said Baurus was one of the youngest Blades to serve in Uriel's personal guard. Did that mean he'd never…?

The Redguard gestured for us to make our way out of the armoury, and I took the cue.

"So you've never had a lover?" I asked as we made our way up the steps. "A sweetheart? Someone special?"

"That's a bit of a… personal question, wouldn't you say?"

"I'll answer if you answer."

Baurus glanced at me wryly before pausing to open the door to the Great Hall for me. We passed out into the Hall without further comment. I glanced up at the swords hanging along the walls and wondered just how many of them there were.

"Back when I was younger – barely more than a recruit in the Legion – I fell in love with a young woman, Caelia," Baurus said quietly, pulling me out of my thoughts. I hadn't really expected him to answer, nor had I realized he'd served in the Legion, or… well, anything of what he'd just said. I turned to face him. His expression was pensive, reminiscent. "She was also a Legionnaire, hailing from Leyawiin. She was… something else." The Redguard raised his eyes to mine, a wistful expression in their brown depths. "We had our first tour of duty together. Killed our first man together too, but damn if we didn't argue over who stuck him first." A smile lit his face, and I smiled with him to see him happy.

"So what happened?" I asked. "Things just didn't work out?"

A shadow passed over Baurus' face.

"She died," he said. The smiled faded from my lips. "She earned a posting in Leyawiin as guard captain and was murdered. Jauffre offered me a position in the Blades shortly after, and I accepted. Wanted to make the world a better place. Wanted to take my mind off her."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea."

The Blade looked at me.

"It's alright," he said. "It happened a long time ago. I've learned to deal with it."

I was trying to find something more to say when the doors to the great fortress blew open, and I glanced over to see a rather ill-tempered looking Caroline marching up to me.

"You are aware that this is supposed to be a hidden fortress, yes?" she said to me crossly as I stared at her, taken aback.

"Er... yes?" I replied hesitantly, wondering what in the world had happened to make the brusque but level headed Breton so perturbed. Said Breton continued to frown at me.

"Then perhaps you can explain to me why Fortis and Roliand have returned from patrol early with a Dunmer girl who claims to be looking for you."

I frowned, trying to think of any Dunmer women I knew who could possibly have any desire to seek me out. Caroline nodded towards the door, and, after a quick, confused glance at Baurus who rose to come with me, I followed after her.

It was a fairly large commotion at the gate. Fortis and Roliand stood, grim faced, on either side of their charge, whose identity was mostly hidden behind the imposing form of Captain Steffan. Belisarius and Pelagius also waited a little further back, their eyes hard as they regarded their prisoner. Arcturus I could see high up in the east sentry tower, still keeping watch.

"What were you doing in Bruma?" Steffan questioned. His voice was cold and intimidating.

"I told you: I'm looking for the Champion. She was last seen outside Bruma. It made sense to follow the trail, and it's not so difficult to find if you have the training—"

"And where exactly did you receive _your_ training, Dark Elf?"

"Well, Morrowind, but... but I've been in Cyrodiil these twelve months passed! I work for the Fighters Guild in Anvil. I was sent by Modryn Oreyn. Please, you have to believe me. I mean no harm!"

"We'll be the judge of that," Steffan replied darkly. He stepped back to greet Caroline's hail, revealing the Dark Elf girl who stood blindfolded and dejected between her two guards. I smiled grimly as I recognized her.

"It's alright, Steffan – I can vouch for her," I said as we approached. Steffan frowned at me, but the look of hopeful relief on the Dunmer's face was so strong it was almost comical.

"Champion? Is that you?" she asked, her face lighting up.

"It's me, don't worry."

"Oh, thank Dibella! Please, _please_ tell them I'm not spy or anything worth killing!"

"You know this woman?" Steffan asked, still looking mightily perturbed.

I turned to the girl, my gaze hardening.

"Who is the keeper?" I asked.

"The fair skinned rose with emerald leaves, and petals as red as flame."

"What holds the blade?"

"The dusk haired sire of a band of mercenaries, sworn to the uphold of honour."

"And what are your feelings towards a certain Dunmeri mage living in Anvil?"

Between the correctly recited pass code and the blooming darkness on the girl's cheeks, I was sure beyond a doubt that this was, indeed, who I believed it to be.

"I do know this woman," I replied to Steffan with a gesture at the girl. "And that just confirmed it. This is Llensi Llaram, an Apprentice in the Fighters Guild, and one of our Master's favourite couriers." I glanced back at Llensi. "Take that blindfold off her. She's on our side."

"Her actions say otherwise. She tried to flee from us when we went to speak with her."

"And if I was a lone scout and saw heavily armoured soldiers making for me I'd run away too." Steffan glowered at me. I sighed and turned to Llensi. "What brought you all the way to Bruma looking for me, anyway?" I asked, ignoring him.

Llensi swallowed.

"I have a message from the Master," she said. "He wants you to report for duty at Chorrol as soon as possible." She paused, undoubtedly censoring the words Modryn had given her to tell me. "He says now isn't the time to... get into trouble, and he doesn't appreciate you lying to him."

I raised my eyebrows at the girl.

"Lying to him?" I questioned.

"I'm not sure what he was talking about," Llensi admitted. "But he was very angry about it. Said he was going wring your fetch––uh, fair neck if you came back, and twice over if you didn't."

"Because of course I'm going to let his filthy, blue hands anywhere near my neck next time I see him."

"Champion," she hissed, looking almost frightened beneath her blindfold. "You can't say that about the Guild Master."

"What, that's he's filthy?" A smile touched my lips. "Have you been near the man after a battle, Llensi?"

"As happy as you are to be reunited, can't this conversation wait until later?" Steffan interrupted ill-temperedly. I glanced at the man, having half-forgotten that he was there. "Her being here complicates the situation. We need to take her inside for questioning and ensure that she isn't a spy."

"Llensi isn't a spy," I told him, an authoritative, challenging edge to my tone.

"We don't know that," the Imperial countered, glowering at me. "How are we to trust her? By her own admission you can't have known her more than a year."

"I know my people. I trust Llensi." Perhaps I didn't trust her as deeply as I did Modryn, Burz gro-Khash, or some of the other veterans of the Guild, but she had proven her loyalty enough for me to stand up for her here. She had done nothing to warrant my suspicion… yet.

"So we are to place faith in your judgment over our own?" Steffan argued. "You, a woman we barely know?"

I narrowed my eyes, ignoring the uncomfortable shifting of Baurus behind me.

"Uriel trusted my judgment," I said, my voice deadly calm. "Seeing as yours lead to his death, shouldn't you as well?"

There was a collective intake of breath from the Blades, and even Llensi, who knew not of what I spoke, stilled. It was a cutting blow, I knew, but I wouldn't see my poor Dunmer charge dragged off to whatever dank dungeons there were here to be "questioned" simply because she had been following orders. It was my fault really. I should have contacted Modryn.

Captain Steffan's lips tightened into a thin, white line. Fury danced in the shadows of his blue eyes. He turned stiffly to Pelagius.

"Find the Grandmaster," he said, the words sharp off his tongue. "Tell him we need his judgment. And you," he said, turning to me. "Do you _judge_ this man to be honest?" His gauntleted hand gestured at Baurus. I met the Redguard's eyes for but a moment before facing Steffan once more.

"I do," I said.

"Good," he replied curtly. "Then you won't have any quarrel with his guarding you." A wave of indignation rose up within me, but if Steffan noticed, he made no show of it. Instead he turned to Baurus. "Take them up to the stable for now. These two are not to leave until Jauffre arrives. Understood?"

"Yessir," replied Baurus, standing to attention. I noticed his expression become distinctly more upset and less professional as Steffan and the other Blades departed for their duties. I stepped forward and took Llensi by the elbow, guiding her towards the stables with Baurus at our heels. Once there I undid the blindfold around her eyes and she blinked at the sudden light.

"I'm sorry," Llensi apologized in a small voice as I folded the blindfold. She seated herself rather wearily on one of the hay bales stacked against the stable wall.

"This isn't your fault," I assured her, coming to the girl's side and taking a seat. She wasn't yet eighteen, and already she had fled her family and home to free herself of an unwelcome marriage and cruel husband. She didn't deserve the treatment she'd gotten here, although I understood the Blades' caution. "Look," I said when she continued to be miserable. "You were just following orders. I would never let any harm come to you for doing such a thing. I'm your champion, yes?"

She nodded, a tiny smile lighting up her beautiful, delicate features.

"Besides," I whispered conspiratorially. "Who would you rather face? Modryn Oreyn or the whole of the Blades? I'd take the Blades any day."

There was a snort from Baurus' direction, and Llensi gave a laugh, some of her forlornness melting away.

"He still scares me sometimes," she admitted. Her face grew worried. "And with the way he was acting these past few days…"

I frowned.

"What do you mean? How has he been acting?"

Llensi sighed, looking torn.

"He probably wouldn't want me to tell you, but…" I waited patiently for her to continue, and she obliged me after another moment of consideration. "He was so upset after Kvatch," she explained, her large eyes turning on me. "Everyone thought you had died in the attack with the rest of them. He was well enough to send forces from Skingrad and Anvil to help out with the daedra and the bandits, but he wouldn't even see me when I came to give my report. I had to shout it through the door. When I told him of the sightings we'd had of you, it practically flew open." She paused, dropping her eyes to the floor. "He… wanted to go look for you. It took everyone in the guild hall to convince him that he had to stay, that we needed his strength to lead us. He was very unhappy sending just me." She looked up at me. "I've never seen him so upset before. Even with the Blackwood Company, he never…" She fell quiet again, and my gaze dropped to my hands where they rested between my knees. Modryn had been that upset? He'd been that worried? He was never a man to shirk his duties, so to simply ignore all of them like this... It didn't make sense. "Champion," Llensi's hesitant voice broke silence. "You aren't… lovers, are you?"

I glanced up at her, taken aback.

"Me and Modryn?" I exclaimed. "No, we're––!" I paused to shake my head incredulously. Not that I hadn't considered it before – not that both Modryn _and_ I hadn't considered it before, and quite seriously – but he was my elder by a good hundred and fifty years, and for the well-being of the Guild and our friendship we'd decided to let it be. "We're just very good friends, Llensi. We've been through a lot together."

I felt rather than saw a pair of eyes on me, and I glanced up to see Baurus quickly look away from me. I didn't have a chance to make a remark, however, as Llensi's voice drew me back.

"Oh, good," she said with a laugh. "I didn't think you were, but with the way he was acting I had to make sure." She glanced at me, her red eyes filled with longing. "It must be nice to have someone care that much about you." I was once again taken aback by her candidness. It took me a moment to find appropriate words.

"Yes," I finally said, my eyes dropping to my hands once more. "It is."

"Jauffre's coming," Baurus said, his voice edged with… annoyance? Well, I supposed I deserved it. I _had_ insulted the competency of his order in a particularly cruel way. He stepped aside to let the Grandmaster enter. Pelagius trailed behind. I smiled sheepishly, hoping to be found endearing.

"Jauffre!" I said, rising. "Allow me to introduce my fellow sister-in-arms, Llensi Llara––"

"None of your cheek, Sarasamacial," the man said sharply. "You're already in enough trouble as it is." He turned to Baurus. "Is it true she sassed Captain Steffan in front of you all?"

The Blade glanced at me with an unreadable expression before facing Jauffre again.

"She did, sir."

If I hadn't known Jauffre, I would have sworn I saw him roll his eyes. He gestured to Llensi.

"Pelagius, escort our guest inside. I'd like to question her in private." I opened my mouth to speak, but he cut me off with a quick, raised hand. "Not a word from you," he warned. "This woman has come too close to Cloud Ruler, and with the convenient excuse of looking for you, no less. I intend to find out how legitimate that claim is with_out_ you jumping to her defense at every second word."

I snapped my jaw shut tight and settled back down onto the hay bale, carefully keeping my indignation in check. I knew when I could push the envelope. Now, in the Blades stronghold and facing down their Grandmaster himself, wasn't the time.

I looked at Llensi.

"You'll be fine," I told her as Pelagius stepped forward to lead her away. "Just tell the truth and all will be well."

She nodded stiffly, fear flashing in her eyes, and allowed herself to be lead out. Baurus made to follow them.

"You'll be staying here, Baurus," Jauffre said, stopping him with a hand. His eyes flicked to me. "I daresay she'll need some supervision for the time being."

Baurus looked like he was holding back a sigh, and nodded.

"As you wish, Grandmaster. Is she to be confined to the stables?"

"No, nothing so severe as that. Just keep her out of the west wing."

"Understood, sir."

After one final, reprimanding look at me, Jauffre departed. I watched him go, frowning.

"Well, that… wasn't exactly what I expected," Baurus said after he'd gone.

I scowled at the Blade, feeling ill-tempered and frustrated with the situation.

"Am I really that untrustworthy? I mean, is my judgment really that impaired in your eyes?"

Baurus came to sit by me.

"I trust you," he said. "That hurt what you said about Uriel, but you were right: we did fail the Emperor, and he _did_ place his trust in you." He paused, and I saw the tale-tell sign of a man locking away his grief. "Although," he said, eyeing me up and forcing himself to be cheerful. "Seeing the kind of company you keep, perhaps I should be a little more cautious."

I felt a smile lift the corners of my lips, and I gave him a light-hearted shove.

"The only company that should be concerning is yours," I teased. Baurus chuckled.

"Come on," he said. "I've been tasked with keeping you out of the west wing, and you need to learn how to use a sword. Jauffre didn't say anything about stopping you from sparring."

I gave a good-natured groan as he rose, and allowed him to help me up with an offered hand.

I apologized to the other Blades during the evening meal. They accepted it without comment, but thereafter passed along the salt and other items with much more graciousness. Llensi was eventually released from questioning, and, although Jauffre insisted in keeping her in one of the lower rooms and under guard, he reassured me that he did not think her a spy and allowed me to see her. She was no worse for wear, although she reiterated my need to return to Chorrol. Belisarius, her guard, told me she would be released and escorted to Bruma under blindfold when the next Blade was to leave. Unhappy with that condition but satisfied, I settled down to sleep.


	10. The God of Mercy

I woke with a start, bolting upright as my eyes wildly glanced around the room, searching for whatever danger haunted my mind and caused my heart to race. My fingers clenched at the wool blankets tangled about my legs. Fear saturated my every thought. Something had been chasing me. Something had held me in its cold, hard grip. Something with red eyes and reaching fangs and throat slit by a skilled hand.

"I'm glad you're awake."

I started, twisting around to face the dark figure perched in the doorway not far from my head. I'd chosen not to sleep in the barracks with the rest of the Blades, afraid that I would murmur something unsafe for them to hear, and had instead made my bed in the stables close to Shadowmere. Red eyes stared at me from the doorway. I began to reach inconspicuously for my sword. Just as my fingers closed over the hilt, the figure stepped forward into a patch of moonlight, revealing its identity.

"Othrelos," I hissed into the darkness, releasing the blade. "What are you doing here? You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I have a message from the Grey Fox," the Dunmer replied, his every muscle tense as he prepared to leap away at any sign of discovery from outside.

"I'm not with the Guild anymore," I said. "Take your message somewhere else."

"You can never quit the Guild, and you know it. You always come back, one way or another."

I growled my disagreement. Amusei would get it for this.

"The Fox says there are people looking for you," Othrelos said, ignoring my irritation.

"I've already been found by them," I muttered back. "The Fighters Guild wanted to know I was alive, that's all."

"The Fox says it's not the Fighters Guild."

I froze at the thief's words. My anger dissipated, replaced by caution.

"Not the Guild?" I whispered. "Who?"

"He doesn't know yet, but he's worried they might be… unwelcome acquaintances you made in the past."

My heart thudded quickly as the implications of Othrelos' words sank in. The Dark Brotherhood, looking for me after all these years? Did they know who I was, or did they simply think me to be another target to eliminate?

"Thank you, Othrelos. I will be more careful from now on," I said carefully, keeping my anxiety from his keen, red eyes. The Dunmer nodded, glancing around quickly one last time.

"The Fox also wishes to let you know that the final assignment has been completed, and that your belongings have been recovered from the Imperial Prison. When you next come to the Imperial city, they will be delivered to you." I nodded my understanding. "Do you have anything to relay back?" the elf asked, and I paused, thinking.

"Tell the Fox I am grateful," I said slowly. "Tell him that if he continues to help me it may be dangerous, but that I would be greatly in his debt."

"And what would you have him do?"

I paused, thinking again. Could I really ask Amusei to do this? If it _was_ the Brotherhood after me, looking into their activities could result in death – and worse – for those doing the looking. Unless it was a Murderer or some other low rank, chances were their skill would highly outclass anything the Thieves Guild had to offer.

"I would have him find the names of these… acquaintances for me," I said finally, "but no more. If they are who he suspects, they are very dangerous and will not hesitate to use violence against those they deem threats or spies."

Othrelos nodded.

"I will tell him so," he said, and then he stepped back into the darkness and was gone. I rose and looked out across the courtyard for him, but could find no trace of his presence. Othrelos' skill at disappearing, after all, rivalled my own.

* * *

I slept through the changing of the guard, waking late. Baurus and Martin were already in their places in the Great Hall as I walked in, the former gazing worriedly upon the latter as he gingerly thumbed through the pages of the Mysterium Xarxes. I stifled a yawn as I walked up.

"Glad to see some of us got some sleep last night," I said, eyeing the lack of dark bruises under Martin's eyes. Baurus looked up quickly, but Martin took the time to finish reading the page he was on before greeting me with this concerned, blue eyed stare.

"You didn't sleep well, friend?" he questioned, and I shrugged awkwardly.

"I don't seem sleep very well these days, it seems." I avoided the knowing, questioning look Baurus gave me. Martin's expression grew shadowed.

"Yes, I… understand that." He put the Mysterium Xarxes down, silent. I was about to ask Martin what he meant when I noticed Baurus studying me and my equipment.

"Is Jauffre sending you out on patrol?" he asked, puzzled. I shook my head.

"No. I think I've put too much of a kink in his knickers for him to trust putting me on patrol." A ghost of a smile haunted my lips briefly before I sobered again. "Caroline and I are escorting Llensi to Bruma, and from there Llensi and I will ride on alone to Chorrol."

Two pairs of eyes frowned at me.

"But you've only just returned," Baurus protested at the same time Martin asked, "Why must you go to Chorrol?"

I gave an amused half smile as the two glanced at each other in quickly recovering surprise.

"Apologies, Sire," Baurus said with a respectful dip of his head. Martin frowned a little at the display of rank and formality, but said nothing as he turned to regard me once more. Yet even so, I could see the disgruntlement in his posture.

"Why must you go to Chorrol?" he asked again. I gave a tight lipped sigh and settled my standard issue steel bow more comfortably across my shoulders.

"The woman who was brought here yesterday – Llensi Llaram – is an Apprentice and courier of the Fighters Guild. She was looking for me to confirm my survival and pass on a message. The Guild Master wishes me to return to headquarters – which is not surprising considering the mess this province has become recently – and headquarters are in Chorrol, so I go there."

"But we need you here," Baurus said. I looked on him apologetically.

"I've been commanded by the head of my order, the Master of my Guild," I said. "And even were he not my superior, he is my very dear friend. He deserves to know I'm safe."

"So send him a message," he replied sourly, crossing his arms with a sudden frown.

"I would," I said with a sharp glance at him and an equally ill turning of temper. "Were my messenger not a prisoner requiring escort to leave."

Baurus backed down, shamefaced.

"But you will come back to us?" Martin's voice was soft, even more so than usual. There was something desperate hidden in the depths of his ice coloured eyes, something I couldn't quite interpret. I sighed again, slowly.

"I don't know, Martin. I'll try. Oblivion knows what's going on outside Cloud Ruler, or if Jauffre will even let me return after what I put him through yesterday, but I'll do my best."

"I'll talk to Jauffre," Baurus said determinedly. "I'll make sure there's a bed for you here."

I smiled at him gratefully and then looked down, agitatedly settling my straps again. The silence began to stretch out between us. Nobody wanted to say goodbye. Nobody wanted to admit this might be the last parting.

"…I have to go," I said quietly. "Llensi deserves to get out of here."

"Of course," Martin replied, his voice just as subdued. He rose, standing beside Baurus as he faced me. "Take care, my friend."

"You too, Martin."

We clasped each other's forearms in a gesture of companionship, and then stepped back away from each other. My eyes lifted further to meet Baurus', and my words failed me. What could I say? _Thank you for giving me the chance to prove myself. Thank you for standing by my side. I will miss laughing with you._

"…Take care, Baurus," I said eventually, grasping his arm as I had Martin's. He nodded to me, his eyes never leaving mine.

"May Talos guide you, Sara."

* * *

We strode up to the doors of the Chorrol guild hall, or, rather, I strode up. Llensi shuffled.

"That worried, eh?" I asked as I glanced at her pinched face.

"You didn't see him," she said, her voice an anxious whisper. Pursing my lips at her less than motivational behaviour, I opened the door and stepped through.

Sabine, and the Orc brothers, Lum and Kurz, sat enjoying a meal at the guild hall table. The porter was standing nearby, listening in on their conversations with a good-natured smile.

Lum, sitting across from the door, was the first to see me.

"Sara!" he cried, jumping up and crossing over from where he had been sitting to envelope me in a bone crushing bear hug before anything else could be done.

"Hello to you, too," I coughed out, a smile on my lips as he lifted me up into the air with ease. I was half Lum's size, after all. Even with my legs dangling I reached up only to his chest.

"Put her down – you're going to break her!" his brother scolded, but, when the Orc released me, he, too, pulled me into a similar, albeit gentler, hug. Lum laughed and pounded me on the back as Kurz released me. I tried to ignore the sensation of my teeth clacking together and my breath being beaten from me as he did so.

"Break her? This is the Hero of Kvatch we're talking about!" Lum winked at me. "Gave those daedra something to think about, didn't ya? And in sensible armour for once, too."

"The armour wasn't my choice," I gasped out as my breath returned, although my eyes twinkled in merriment. "And enough with that 'hero' nonsense. I just did my job."

"Right, because we all know saving what was left of the city was _so_ in the contract," Sabine said from where she'd risen from her chair at the guild hall's table. She was smiling too, and stepped forward to lay an affectionate hand on my shoulder. "Welcome back."

"…Sara?"

Everyone quieted, six pairs of eyes trained at the top of the staircase where Modryn Oreyn stared down at me. He was a wreck.

His eyes, red though they were to begin with, bore the marks of restless sleep, and the shadows under his eyes were deep. His hair was down, giving the illusion of locks that were much longer than they were as they curled about his ears. His armour was gone. Dark stubble coated his jaw.

There was silence in the room for a moment more, and the he descended the stairs, crossed the floor, and stood before me, hands quivering at his sides as if he were holding himself from striking me. Sabine stepped back out of his way quickly. Red eyes searched mine. Then, almost tenderly, he reached forward and drew me to him.

"I thought you were dead," he said, his voice trembling with hidden emotion. I stood still, shocked by this outward display of affection, of… weakness, as Modryn himself would put it. _Always put up a strong front. Never let them see your injuries. _I slowly raised my hands and returned his embrace unsurely, utterly confused.

"I'm here now, Modryn," I said, my cheek against his shoulder. "I'm back."

I felt him tense the moment before he moved. Grabbing my shoulders, he roughly shoved me back, holding me at arm's length as he stared into my eyes.

"Why didn't you let us know you were alive?" he demanded, his voice loud and angry. He gave me a shake. "Two weeks, _two fetching weeks_ after you go to Kvatch, and you still don't even think about what we may imagine when we hear the city's been sacked? And then you go running off on whatever fool adventure you've gotten into that s'wit head of yours, and don't even bother to let us know you've survived?"

"I'm sorry, Modryn, I––"

"You'd better be sorry, you pathetic excuse for a champion! By Akatosh, if you ever pull something like this again I'll––"

Modryn stopped, glancing around the room and apparently realizing we weren't alone.

"What are you all staring at?" he snapped at the others. "Haven't you got your duties to attend to? I'm still waiting on that missive, Carius." The porter jumped at being singly addressed, gave a quick salute, and disappeared. The others made similarly quick exits. "That's better," Modryn said with a snort before turning back to me. "Now you," he said darkly, "have got some explaining to do."

We ended up at Modryn's desk in his office upstairs, I with my back to the stairs, and Modryn across from me with a couple bottles of mead he'd taken from the guild hall's store. I watched him, still very bemused by his previous behaviour, although he'd returned utterly to the Modryn I knew before. He sat and slid a bottle across the desk. I took it, and we opened them and drank in silence. Eventually his gaze found mine.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked. I stared down at the desk, studying the grain of its wood.

"I didn't want you involved," I said. "Didn't want to make you a target."

Modryn scowled.

"The whole fetching province's involved. Sara. You'll tell me what's going on."

I twirled the bottle between my fingers, buying time to organize my thoughts.

"…When I was here before this all started," I finally began. "No one knew who had assassinated Emperor Uriel or his sons. I didn't know who to trust, so I trusted no one." I saw the angry hurt in his eyes when I glanced up and looked down again. "I didn't believe you were involved – I would have set my life against it, in fact – but not all the lives I was handling were my own. And it was as I said: I didn't want to get you needlessly involved. Our battle against the Mythic Dawn is difficult enough knowing who they are. To bring a faceless enemy to your doorstep would have been unforgivable on my part."

"The Mythic Dawn? They're the ones who––?"

Modryn didn't have the chance to finish his question. A fireball ripped through one of the banisters, sending bits of wood flying and scorching my cheek. I leaped up, heart pounding.

"To arms!" Modryn roared, drawing his mace.

"You're not armoured!" I shouted after him, but there was no time to say more. The fire tore through the books that lined the shelves on the walls and proceeded to consume the chest sitting on the floor nearby. I called up my magic to try and reverse the flame, but it responded by eagerly reaching for me with snapping tongues of flame. I leaped back, my heart in my throat. _Magickal flame_. Half the office was on fire now, the heat overwhelming. My hands shook with fear.

"Sara! Look out!"

I turned in time to see a figure barrelling up the stairs towards me, mace raised high. I ducked under the first strike, kicking out at the assailant's daedric armoured knees, cursing my weakness as my shaky blow glanced off the metal. My enemy stumbled but caught himself quickly, and I only just avoided his next blow by throwing myself forward. The floor behind me splintered under the weight of his mace. Unable to keep my balance, I reached for the railing and missed, tumbling instead down the stairs. Lightning scorched the floor beside me, and then a moment later ripped through me.

"Modryn!" I screamed as the pain overwhelmed.

"Sara!" I heard his responding cry. My head was yanked back as my assailant grabbed a fistful of my loosened hair, my arm twisted behind my back, and I was dragged to my feet. I kicked out again at my captor, but I was rewarded with nothing but pain as something in my foot snapped against the armour.

"It's time you learned the price of defying the Mythic Dawn, Bosmer," a male voice growled, and I twisted around enough to see the scowling mask of a Mythic Dawn agent before another wave of magic scorched through me. Stars burst before my eyes. I distantly heard myself screaming. Everything in my body burned, everything was consumed in the undeniable pain that sated itself on my flesh. A few more seconds, and I would be dead.

The hands holding me incapacitated released me, and I heard the agent stagger back as I fell limply to the floor. Other hands grabbed at me, and I weakly attempted to fend them off before realizing they belonged to Modryn. I glanced over my shoulder to see the would-be-assassin lying still in a growing puddle of blood, a hole larger than a fist carved out of his breastplate.

"Come on, get _up_!"

Instinctively I followed Modryn's orders, although my body protested fiercely and would barely hold me. The fire had spread all along the ceiling of the guild hall and was currently licking down the walls to the lower levels. A wave of fear flooded through my exhausted mind. _The ceiling is burning. The ceiling is burning and the beams will come crashing down and they'll trap me and I'll be pinned and I'll burn and I'll burn and I'll burn and there's no Vicente to come save me––_

"Sara," Modryn ordered as he threw my arm around his shoulders. "Move!"

I swallowed my fear and tried to focus on navigating past the bodies of three Mythic Dawn agents. The smoke was thick; my eyes stung. There was another body by the door – Lum stared unseeing at the roof above him, his flesh ravaged by mace and magic from his shoulders down. I began to reach for him, but Modryn dragged me onward.

"No time!" he shouted over the roar of the fire. Then we were stumbling outside in the cold, clean air, and I was passed to another pair of hands that settled me down on the hard ground and began to murmur soothing words of comfort as they eased the pain in my tortured limbs. Through half lidded eyes I watched the Fighters Guild main hall burn, and swore revenge.

* * *

"Names," I spat. "Give me the names of those you know _now_."

I was pacing up and down the length of the main room in Dareloth's house, savagely chewing on my lip and trying to keep my blood lust at bay. First the Kvatch Fighters Guild chapter, and now the one in Chorrol. Too many innocents dead, too many friends put to death by their actions. It was time for the Dawn to pay.

"I won't let you go to your death," Amusei said, his face too calm in my red tinted vision.

"I go not to my death, but theirs," I snapped. I turned to him, settling my palms on the table as I stared him down. "You want to know the truth about me, Amusei? I trained for twenty years to become one of the deadliest weapons in the empire, and Oblivion take it if I'm going to let some amateur conjurer continue to destroy what I hold closest to my heart––"

"––And that's why I'm not giving you the list," he replied, standing up to face me down.

"So that's it, eh?" I said, straightening and staring at him coldly. "Now that you've been given your every desire you're going to turn your back on the one who gave it to you?"

"You're being cruel, Sara."

"Well then damn it all to Oblivion Amusei, help me!" I turned away from the table, my hand in my hair. "What if they come after you next?" I said thickly, my pain manifesting in desperation. "What if simply touching me is enough to make you a target?"

"The Guild has its ways," he said, trying to reassure me. "You know this. If necessary I'll disappear for a few days."

"What if that's not enough?" He was silent. I turned back to him. "Please, Amusei. Give me the list. Let me put my talents to a good use for once." I held out my hand imploringly. His tail slowly swished back and forth as he thought.

"I don't know," he said finally. "This feels wrong. These people are many, and if they are anything like you their skills will be sharp––"

"It isn't the Dark Brotherhood, Amusei."

The Argonian blinked at me, surprised.

"It's not?"

"No. It's the Mythic Dawn. It's the bastards who murdered the emperor and sacked Kvatch. The empire's enemy."

Amusei was quiet a moment as he absorbed this information.

"Why would this Mythic Dawn be looking for you?" he asked. "What have you done to disturb them so deeply?"

I sighed, crossing my arms as I leaned against the table between us.

"Because I'm the so-called 'Hero of Kvatch'," I said. "I'm the bugger that threw a fireball in their haystack. If they can kill me, it's just one more blow to the empire's forces. Now the list. _Please_."

"No," Amusei said with a resolute set of his jaw. "If you really are that important, then I won't help you get yourself killed."

"Amusei," I growled, fire flashing in my eyes and my hand clenching before I could get my temper under control. "I just lost a good man and a friend to those bastards. Don't get between me and my revenge."

He opened his mouth to respond, and then the door behind us opened.

"Amusei, have you seen the Fox anywhere? I have a message I'm supposed to deliver from…"

I turned to face the new arrival and froze.

Methredhel stared back at me, her face a schooled expression of neutrality as she gently finished closing the door behind her.

"Sarasamacial," she said evenly. "I was under the impression you'd resigned from the Guild."

"I have," I said brusquely, both angered and sorrowed by her cool civility. She was just one more mark to add to my tally of gone friends, it seemed. I turned my eyes on Amusei. "Of that I have been made all too aware."

At least the man had the decency to look guilty.

"In that case, I suppose you were just leaving," the Bosmer announced. "I'm sure Amusei is quite busy with the duties he's taken over from you." I swallowed my pride and my retort, refusing to rise to her baiting. Instead, I lightly inclined my head to the Argonian.

"Thank you for returning my belongings," I said stiffly. "I suppose we may be seeing each other around the city."

"You are always welcome here," Amusei told me, and, were it not for my anger, I would have believed him.

"Shadow hide you," I said.

"Shadow hide you."

I turned and made my way towards the door. Methredhel hissed and flinched away as I approached, furthering my anger, but it was turned to sudden confusion as her hand met mine and inconspicuously slipped a scrap of paper into it.

"They got Carwen," she whispered angrily as she moved further into the room. "Make them pay for me."

I kept my eyes trained forward and walked through the door, acting as if nothing had happened. Only once I was away and outside did I stop to inspect what it was that my former colleague had given me.

_Mythic Dawn Agents:_

_Imperial City –_

_Marguerite Diel_

_Dralora Athram_

_Chorrol –_

_Eugal Belette_

I smiled as I skimmed over the rest of the names listed on the paper. Perhaps Methredhel was no longer my friend, but in her I had found an unlikely ally. She was always one to use what was available. And if they had gotten Carwen, well, that made me one highly useful and available tool in her revenge.

_Dralora Athram, eh?_ She lived in the Imperial City. Perhaps it was time that I made her acquaintance.

* * *

I ducked into the alleyway by the Mystic Emporium, leaning against the cool, stone wall and grinding my teeth together as I fought the pain. Glancing around the corner, I could see Dralora step into Palonirya's _Divine Elegance_, and, with a pain filled hiss, resumed my rest against the wall. My wounds had not yet fully healed from my encounter with the Mythic Dawn assassins two days ago. Gureryne Selvilo, the chapel healer in Chorrol, had tried to convince me to stay until he was sure I was mended, but my fury had been too strong and my hurt too tempered to keep me settled. I'd slipped out while he was tending Modryn's smoke battered lungs, made camp on the road when I could travel no further, and interrogated Amusei unsuccessfully that next afternoon. My body screamed for rest, yet, with my quarry in sight, I could not let this opportunity escape.

I had been watching Dralora Athram since she'd left her house this morning, waiting for the right moment to strike. Finding her had been easy, really. The upper class was always willing to accept that a Bosmer was a messenger or errand runner of some sort, and their servants were more than willing to give the necessary information to get such a Bosmer's long, sneaky fingers away from their master's purses. I'd forgone my armour to better blend in, and now wore only Renault's white linen shirt and brown breeches, although I'd managed to salvage an old pair of knee high boots I'd left once at Modryn's to replace the ill-fitting ones I'd worn from Cloud Ruler Temple. A dark, homespun cloak settled about my shoulders, and, with my quiver of steel arrows moved to my hip and my bow slung low across my back, I looked no more than an ordinary adventurer taking a much needed chance to re-supply in the city. Nobody would ever remember me.

I heard the door to _Divine Elegance_ open, and glanced around the corner to see Dralora stepping away from the business. I followed her with my eyes, taking note of the direction she was travelling, and then casually and discreetly made my way after her. She led me across the district, and I stopped every once in a while to inspect a trinket or adjust my cloak as she slowed or paused. I could feel my heart beating strong in my chest, noticed the subtle sharpening of senses long disused. As I put down a quill a merchant hawked to me I observed a gentle tremble to my fingers. I took me a moment to understand why: I was excited. Part of me recoiled from that thought, but most of me, remembering Lum's ruined body, embraced it. This was what I had been made for. This was the reason for those long hours training in the dark, for the days at the end of which I cried as Ocheeva rubbed out knots as big as my fist and Telaendril pried open hands too cramped to uncurl on their own. This was the reason my parents lay dead, and all those I ever touched scarred beyond recognition. My words to Martin from not long ago floated to the forefront of my mind: _my part is to do what the Blades cannot_. Could the Blades kill a woman in cold blood to prevent her from doing any more harm, even if her guilt could not be entirely assured? Perhaps. But I was death itself. I would _ensure_ that it was so.

_The line between your "Aranwen" and "Sarasamacial" is blurring,_ a voice purred in the back of my mind, but I dismissed it as I followed Dralora through the Arena district door and across its grounds.

_This is for the good of the Empire, not some twisted god's pleasure. It's not the same._

The voice's silence did not reassure me.

Dralora headed through the door to the Arboretum, and I followed as a pair of Argonians passed the gate on their way to the coliseum. Cyrodiil claimed its inhabitants were equal, but, as the guard's eyes watched the pair walk by instead of the shadowy, hooded figure passing between them, I knew it not to be true. The beast races would never be equal to Men, never quite trusted, just as the Bosmer would never hold the respect of the Dunmer or anything but the disdain of the Altmer. We were thieves, the beast races and the Bosmer. Thieves and nothing more than fodder for contempt. _Hone your anger,_ Telaendril had once told me. _Keep it and loose it only on your targets and enemies. This is how best to serve Sithis._ I focused my anger at the guards on the dusk skinned woman strolling the Arboretum before me, and felt cold pleasure.

As I entered the Arboretum proper, I slipped to the side and settled behind one of the statues there, content to watch Dralora from that vantage point. Here I was hidden from the sight of the guards, and had a perfect shot across the courtyard housing the statue of Talos. The park was nearly empty. The chance to strike would be soon.

Turning away from Dralora, I took an arrow from my quiver, coated its tip in a poison I had procured yesterday evening, and laid it across my bow. I drew in a deep breath, willing myself to calm and my shoulders to stop screaming so.

_This is what you are made for, Sara. This is your duty. Claim your rage. Use it to serve you._

_Yes,_ the voice whispered again, pleased. _This _is_ your duty. Take that woman's life. Enjoy watching her die._

_I will do no such thing. I am not a monster._

_No, but you claim Aranwen is. If you take this woman's life, will there be a difference between you?_

I drew in another slow breath, forcing my shoulders to relax.

_I will do what is necessary. If it means sacrificing myself, so be it. I have killed before._ I refused to let myself think of how I would face anyone I'd ever loved after this.

The voice laughed.

_Good,_ it said. _It's about time you listened to reason._

I let out my breath and glanced around the statue, looking for my prey. She was staring up at the statue of Mara, absentmindedly fingering the amulet around her slender throat. The burning walls of the Chorrol guild hall filled my vision. My resolved hardened.

Stepping out from behind the statue, I raised my bow and drew it in one smooth motion. Someone called out and Dralora turned to face them, exposing the slim expanse of her back – and a clear shot at her heart. Movement near my head caught my eye and I started, glancing up at whatever it was that had approached me. It was a sparrow, nestled in the crook of Stendarr's arm.

Stendarr, the God of Mercy.

I swallowed, shaken, glanced back at Dralora, and choked. A tiny Dunmer girl laughed in her arms as she hugged her warmly. A man, elven and dark skinned as she, watched with a small smile a short distance away. Behind them the statue of Mara looked on as if pleased.

_Three shots,_ the voice said, appraising the situation. _The man will see where the arrow came from if he doesn't panic, so he must die. As for the child… we wouldn't want to leave her orphaned and an unlikely witness, would we? Best they all go in one tragic event._

I recoiled from the thought. The tip of my arrow dipped down.

_Where is your rage?_ the voice asked, growing angry. _This woman as good as slew your guild-mates!_

_I cannot slay an entire family,_ I argued. _This isn't the proper time to take her life._

_'Isn't the proper time'! We may never again have this chance!_

_How can I kill her in front of her husband and child?_

_It's easy, _the voice hissed. _You aim and let go. Think of Kvatch. How many children watched their mothers die because of this woman?_

The little, torn bodies of the children savaged by daedra flashed across my memory. Three lives, nay, even one, for how many countless others?

_Yes,_ the voice cooed. _Think of that. The "greater good". Serve your empire._

I swallowed and raised the bow again, taking aim at Dralora as she knelt by her daughter. I drew in a breath and then let it halfway out. Her heart came under my scope.

The sparrow from the statue flitted across my line of vision, and my eyes unwillingly followed it across the courtyard. It landed on the statue of Talos, high on the shoulder near the carven eyes. They seemed to settle on me, gazing across with unhappy disapproval, unsettlingly familiar.

Talos. Tiber Septim. Septim. Martin. _Baurus_.

I looked back at Dralora, and realized my arrow was trained on the little girl's head.

"Oh gods," I choked, lowering my bow and slipping back behind the statue. My back thudded against the sculpture as I leaned against it, and I slid down until I was sitting on the ground. My bow and the arrow dangled limply from my hands.

Even as an assassin, I had never harmed an innocent child.

_I need… help, Grey Fox. I don't want to be that person anymore. But I can't… I don't know how…_ The memory of my voice rang through my head.

_Swear to me, Sarasamacial. Swear that you will never break the tenets again._ They Grey Fox. Corvus. So many years ago.

_I won't, Grey Fox. Never without need. Never without cause. Only in defence of myself or another life. I swear this._

_And never an innocent or when mercy would serve._

_Yes. Never an innocent or when mercy would serve._

I put a hand to my face, sickened.

_What are you doing? _the voice raged. _What about the Empire? What about the dead, motherless children? What about your _revenge_?_

And in that instance I knew why I had almost broken my vow to Corvus, why I had almost slaughtered an entire family for aught but another's word: vengeance. Vengeance was not a good enough reason. How had Methredhel learned of Dralora's identity and so quickly? Was Carwen dead? Recruited into the Dawn? What did she mean, "they got her"? How had I ignored all the lack of details? All the lack of evidence? How had I forgotten everything that had happened to me since I fled the Brotherhood seventeen years ago?

_You are weak,_ the voice growled. _Weak as the man who has taught you to feel._

I strengthened my resolve.

_Be silent. I am not you._

Yet inside I knew how perilously close to falsehood that statement had come.

"What are you doing, woman?"

I glanced up, startled to see an Imperial Legionnaire standing not far from me. I immediately banished the voice and my emotional queasiness, rose to my feet, and tucked my bow and arrow away as inconspicuously as possible.

"Nothing, good sir. I was just enjoying a stroll in the Arboretum and had a passing spell of weakness."

"'A passing spell of weakness'," the Legionnaire quoted, unconvinced, "with a bow and arrow readied?" I shifted my weight, meeting his eyes solidly as I brushed a stray lock of hair off my forehead. The movement pushed back my hood, and sudden recognition flared in his eyes as he better saw my face. His gaze hardened. "You're the Bosmer from before," he breathed. I continued to stare at him defiantly.

"And if I am?" I questioned. Anything would be better than having his attention focused on my almost assassination attempt.

"I'm placing you under arrest," he said, reaching for the cuffs that hung at his belt.

"On what charges?" I snapped, my calm cracked. I stepped back and away from him and the statue. Perhaps this wasn't better.

"Theft, embezzlement, forgery, counterfeiting, slander… it's a long list. Don't expect me to recite all of it."

Indignation rose up in me. I recognized this soldier now.

_Stay quiet, Bosmer, and they'll feed you before the day's out._

"I am _not_ the Grey Fox."

"No, but you did _flee_ the Imperial Prison. Now hold out your hands."

I ground my teeth and prepared to run, but a strong hand from behind clapped itself on my back, startling me and effectively halting my flight.

"Thank you Varian, but I'll take it from here."

I glanced at the Imperial who stood beside and a little behind me, wondering what in Oblivion kind of civilian would stand up to an Imperial soldier. Varian scowled at the man.

"This isn't any of your business, Armillian. You're still off duty."

_Armillian? Wasn't he that...?_

"And I intend to be for some time. However, I have a debt to pay to the Hero of Kvatch, as do we all."

"The Hero of Kvatch? You expect me to believe this skinny, little Bosmer to be the one who closed the Oblivion gate?"

The Imperial's brown eyes turned as hard and unforgiving as stone.

"Yes, I do. You'll remember that I was _there_, Varian."

Varian scowled further, but didn't press the subject.

"Fine," he snapped. "But she's a convicted felon. If there are consequences, they are yours to deal with."

The man beside me nodded, and Varian departed, still scowling and grumbling. He lowered his hand and turned to me.

"...Renegus?" I asked, my eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. He nodded.

"It seems you still recognize me," he said. "Although I wouldn't have been surprised if you didn't. The Legion does look all the same with the armour."

With his stoic expression I wasn't sure if he intended the comment to be a joke or not. Regardless, I didn't laugh.

"Why did you help me?" I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Why did you help those at Kvatch?"

I frowned, taken aback by the question.

"That is why," he said. He stepped back, gesturing at the gate. "You are free to go."

I frowned further.

"You're not going to question me? You're not going to ask my help or detain me or throw me in prison?"

Renegus fixed me with his eyes, oddly chilling despite their colour.

"I saw what you were going to do to the Dunmer. I saw how you came in, stalking her, and I saw how, when her husband and child appeared, you stopped what it was you were doing. I won't lie, Bosmer. If I see you again I will arrest you. Your small mercy here and your heroics at Kvatch are the only things keeping you free this one time."

His honesty stung. I cast my eyes aside.

"That seems fair," I said quietly. "Yet if I could ask one favour of you, I would consider the scales more evenly settled."

He looked at me impassively for a moment, then gave a single, curt nod. I took in a breath and let it out, using the time to judge my situation. Renegus had been at Kvatch. He had helped me fight off the daedra. He had lost a good man in my service. He had come to my aid here, despite his moral misgivings.

Yes, I could trust him.

I reached into my pouch and drew forth the list of names, handing it to him after a moment. He took it questioningly, frowning.

"This is a list of names belonging to those suspected of being Mythic Dawn agents," I explained. "That woman's name is on the list. If it is correct, she is part of the cult who murdered Emperor Uriel and opened the Oblivion gate at Kvatch."

Renegus' eyes became slits.

"So you were dealing with a traitor and a spy?"

I looked across the courtyard towards the statue of Talos. The Dunmer family was gone.

"…so I believed, yes."

The Imperial sighed.

"Then the scales are not even," he said, lifting a hand to brush back his dark hair. "If you were doing the Empire's work, then—" He went to take a step forward as if to pace, and the leg under him buckled. I rushed forward to catch him. He grunted in pain.

"Your leg," I said as I helped him recover. "You didn't get it healed."

"I did," he countered as he eased his weight back to his good leg. I released him. "But it was too late, and a simple Legionnaire doesn't have the coin to pay for anything better than what the Chapel does out of the good of its heart."

"So the Legion will just let you suffer?"

"The Legion supports many men and many families. The pain only comes when I forget and do not favour it. It is a better fate than others."

We were both silent. The image of a soldier's body, wrapped in blue cloth from the Chapel and slung over a horse's withers, hung between us.

"I will get you the coin for a better healing," I said.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Bosmer," he said forcefully. He looked away, and the grief over his wounds and his inner scars from Kvatch became pitifully plain to see. "I couldn't handle the hope."

I set my resolve then.

"You'll have it," I affirmed. "My life was in your hands several times at Kvatch, and you helped me here. I don't forget my debts. It's the least I can do for your coming to my aid when it wasn't necessary."

"You were serving the empire. It _was_ necessary."

I gazed at the Imperial, moved and appraising. A hint of a smile touched my lips.

"You are very loyal," I said. "I think I know a man who would like you. You remind me of him." I glanced down at the paper crumpled in his fist. He followed my gaze and opened his fingers, awkwardly smoothing out the crinkles against his thigh. "This list was given to me by a woman who was once my ally. We no longer speak, and, while I do not doubt her integrity, she is easily blinded by her emotions. She claims to have lost a good friend to the Mythic Dawn, and that is more than enough to cause her to jump to conclusions or overlook certain…inconsistencies that should not be ignored."

Renegus met my gaze.

"Was this friend who died also a friend of yours?"

I was impressed by Imperial's perceptiveness.

"No," I replied. "But I three days ago I did lose a good man and comrade to their schemes. And yes, what you are thinking is correct: I, too, can be a woman easily blinded by my emotions."

"I see," he murmured quietly, looking lost in thought. He met my eyes. "So what is this favour you wanted to ask of me, then?"

"Look into the names on the list. See if any of them are correct. If they are, I'm sure you can think of an appropriate course of action." By the darkness that swiftly clouded his eyes, I judged my faith had been well placed. "Trust no one," I cautioned. "Even if it is correct this list is incomplete. I trust you only because I fail to see how a cult could be so devious as to send their own men to be slaughtered for the chance at earning my confidence."

"Yet if they were cunning enough to murder the emperor in his own city, I wouldn't be surprised by such a plot," the Imperial said evenly, despite knowing he must be undermining my faith in him. I shrugged.

"Fear and suspicion do wonders at tearing apart allies," I said. "If I allow myself to think that way, I will be fighting this war alone. We all will."

He nodded, his eyes returning once more to the paper.

"As you say," he said. We were silent a moment more, and then I stirred.

"There is… one man you can trust," I offered quietly. "Although I do not think you will find it easy to do so. He is an Argonian, and goes by the name of Amusei." Renegus glanced up, piercing me with his brown eyed gaze. "He is a very dear, very old, very close friend of mine. If necessary, he can get you in contact with me – I'll be leaving the city shortly."

"Where will you go?"

I gazed at him ruefully.

"I cannot say, but know that I go on the empire's business."

He nodded.

"That is enough for me," he said, folding the paper and pocketing it. "I shall see what it is that can be done, although my influence is much… lessened, as of late. The Legion does not look well on cripples and invalids."

I flinched at his harsh words, disliking his bitter cynicism.

"As I said: I will help you. That, at least, can be done."

"So you say. Blessings of Stendarr upon you, Bosmer."

I wondered wryly on the appropriateness of that comment as I reached forward a hand to clasp his arm.

"And you, Renegus."

* * *

I set my bow down on the desk between Amusei and me before sitting down.

"I couldn't do it, Amusei. I can't do it anymore. I understand that now. Thank you for holding me back."

The Argonian's tail swished as he quietly studied me, judging my words.

"In that case," he said, reaching into a drawer of his desk. "There is something you should have."


	11. Blood and Burns

I strode up the steps of Cloud Ruler Temple, giving a curt nod to Roliand as he stood guard at the gate. My steps took me swiftly to the great doors of the fortress, and, taking only a small pause to calm my nerves, I pushed them open and entered. The scene was not what I expected.

"He should have returned by now," Martin argued. His hands rested on the worn wooden surface of one of the tables and he angrily stared down Jauffre, who stood on the other side. The old Blade, to his credit, looked very resolute with his arms folded stubbornly over his armour.

"Baurus can handle himself perfectly well," he explained with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "This daedric_ quest_ you have sent him on cannot be a simple one to complete, and we can spare no men to search for him regardless. We are already too few in number for my taste."

"Your taste is not what I'm worried about," Martin muttered, looking away and clearly upset.

"Has something happened to Baurus?" I asked as I moved closer, concern tightening in my chest. No, this wasn't how it was supposed to be at all. Baurus was supposed to be here too, safe with Martin, watching over him as he always was, waiting for… _waiting for me to come back._ I banished that final thought swiftly.

Jauffre and Martin both turned to me, surprised by my voice. Martin's gaze quickly turned to relief. Jauffre's manifested in… thinly veiled displeasure?

"Sarasamacial," the Grandmaster said coolly. "You have returned."

"And not a moment too soon, my friend," Martin said eagerly. His expression soured as he glanced at Jauffre, but it passed quickly. "Jauffre will not send another Blade to Baurus' aid. I sent him out to seek a daedric artefact, but there has been no word and he is already a day overdue."

I tensed, unconsciously checking that the straps and buckles running over my recently returned elven armour were all secured.

"To which shrine did he go? In which direction?" I asked, my voice much more anxious that I would have liked.

"Sire, Baurus is a Blade. He, like all the others, would not like the idea of you having any less protection than was possible. He knows where his duty lies."

Martin glanced at me, an apology in his eyes.

"Sarasamacial is not a Blade," he said, returning his gaze to Jauffre, "and I am sure she would be willing to go look for Baurus. He is her friend as well, isn't he?"

"Baurus is but one day late. Since she has deigned" – the grandmaster shot me a look – "to return to us, Sarasamacial's skills could be put to much use—"

I took a step forward, moving to stand at Martin's side.

"If that is your wish, _Your Imperial Majesty_," I said with a sidelong glance at Jauffre. "I'm sure the _Grandmaster_ of your Blades would be more than willing to see it done."

By the deepening of Jauffre's frown lines, my not-so-subtle pulling of rank on Martin's behalf did not go unmissed. Martin himself blinked at me as if only just realizing he was the superior here.

"Yes, ah, then you… have my leave to go," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to Jauffre as if expecting a severe reprimand. Jauffre merely stood rigid.

"If that is truly your wish, Sire," he said stiffly, and then, after a short bow, he turned on his heel and left the room.

Martin let his breath out, his shoulders deflating.

"Thank you," he said. He absentmindedly straightened a misplaced paper on the table, and, by the slight discomfiture in his posture, the farmer's son in him was painfully obvious. "While Jauffre is most likely right and Baurus is fine, I can't help but worry for him. He is one of the few companions I have grown close to in these past weeks."

"You do know you are the emperor, yes?" I asked him, my eyes on the myriad of texts. The paper he had straightened was not the only one on the table, and I cringed to think of the expense of the parchment – all covered in Martin's hastily scrawled notes – littered about on the rough surface. "What I pulled with Jauffre you could do at any time."

I was greeted with a weary, amused smile.

"Perhaps," he said – a little weakly, as if he didn't quite believe it. "But I don't think I could cause him quite so much annoyance as you can while doing it."

I laughed.

"Perhaps not," I agreed. "But maybe that's a good thing." My face sobered, and I reached into my pouch to pull out my weathered, oiled map. "Now, tell me where you sent Baurus, and I'll go make sure our bull-headed friend isn't dead."

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time I slipped down from the Shadowmere's withers, and approached the Shrine of Azura. As I entered the clearing housing the tall statue dedicated to her, three pairs of red eyes turned on me. The Argonian, deeming me not to be a threat, turned away first. Out of the two Dunmer watching me, the younger rose and approached.

"I am Mels Maryon," he said. "And you have entered a holy place. What is your business here?"

"I'm looking for a man," I told him. "A Redguard, about a head and a bit taller than me with cropped black hair, probably well armed. I had word that he was searching for the Shrine of Azura."

The Dunmer was quiet a moment, his red eyes searching mine, and then he turned his gaze to the sculpted form of his daedric Lady.

"There indeed was a man of that description here, but that was two days ago. He spoke to Azura and has not been seen since." He pointed over my shoulder up the mountain. I followed the line of his hand. "The last we saw he was heading north, up towards the Sidri-Ashak Rune Stone."

I nodded, my mouth tight. Two days since anyone had last seen Baurus? This did not bode well. I pushed away the sick feeling in my gut.

"Thank you," I said, turning back to the Dunmer. "I'll leave you to your prayers."

The man dipped his head in reply, and then returned to his place by his older compatriot. I moved to Shadowmere and took her nose in my hands.

"If you see sign of Baurus, make it known," I said, staring her in the eye and calling upon the ancestral magic of the Bosmer. I let it flow through me, making in my mind's eye a picture of the man I was searching for. "If you see him, bring me to him." Our minds locked, and for a few moments all else disappeared as my command became ingrained within her being. Then she blew out her breath and the link was broken. Satisfied that I had used my magic to the best of my ability, I mounted and turned her head towards the mountains north of us.

I saw the smoke before anything else. It curled above the treetops on the mountainside, and I turned Shadowmere towards it, unsure if it could be connected in any way to Baurus' disappearance. Breaking through the trees, I came into a partial clearing, and saw the source of the smoke: a ruined Oblivion gate. I dismounted before it, hissing and holding my stomach as the movement caused a shock of pain to rush through me – I'd not yet fully recovered from the Mythic Dawn assassination attempt five days ago – then lowered my hand a set about searching for any sign of survivors nearby. Daedra corpses littered the ground, their sunken eyes betraying only a day's worth of decay, and the ground was still freshly torn from a fierce and raging battle. A few blades, broken or warped beyond use, were scattered around on the charred earth, and I reached down to lift one up, inspecting the damage. It was an Akaviri dai-katana, the length of it twisted by – what I assumed to be – the heat of an Atronach's flame. I let it fall back to the earth.

There was only one group other than the Blades I knew of that bore the arms of the long dead Akaviri: the blind monks of the Ancestor Moth order. Seeing that their temple – if I was recalling correctly – was only a small distance east of here, it made sense that they would send their warriors to deal with the threat of an Oblivion gate and the daedra. But if it was the Moth priests who had closed the gate here, where was Baurus?

I stepped forward, scouring the ground for any more clues that might lead me to my missing friend. Rumbling startled me as part of the broken Oblivion gate suddenly came loose and crashed to the ground, and I jumped back, heart racing and alert. Something clinked under the heel of my boot, and I glanced down to see the hilt of a katana rising out of the dirt, lifted by the pressure of my weight on its blade. Reaching down, I lifted it, my mouth going dry. It was no dai-katana that I held in my hand, but an ordinary Akaviri blade, a blade I had become intimately familiar with after having it held at my throat many times over several sparring matches.

It was Baurus' katana.

I glanced around. Was he nearby? Was he hurt? He must be, else why would he leave his blade behind? He must have been wounded to the point that he couldn't protest its abandonment, or, if nothing else, wounded to the point where his protestations were ignored.

So had he been taken to the Temple of the Ancestor Moths, then? Had they decided to help him, treat his wounds? I tried not to think of the alternative in which Baurus' sword hadn't been left behind in spite of protestation, but because there was none to be given. My mind turned to the thought of Jauffre, of how his face would grow still and cold if I gave him Baurus' sword, of how he would take it silently, knowing what it meant. Of how he would turn his back to me, and reverently, despairingly, place the blade on the mantel of the Great Hall's fireplace. Of how Martin would ask what was wrong, and how he would be stricken with grief and guilt upon hearing it. No, Martin was not an emperor yet. His soul still scarred too easily.

With sudden purpose, I turned and made my way back to Shadowmere – she was staring off into the copse of trees to our left – and pulled out a length of cord from one of her saddlebags, using it to strap Baurus' sword to my own, Chillrend. Baurus wouldn't be dead. I'd find him at the Temple of the Ancestor Moths. _Oblivion take it. Live, you bastard._ That done, I hoisted myself up into the saddle and put my heels to Shadowmere's side, urging her in the direction of the Temple of the Ancestor Moths. She trotted forward a few steps, then came to a stop, her ears pricked forward and head once again looking in the direction of the copse. I looked over.

"There's nothing there," I told her. "We don't have time for this." I put my heels gently to her sides, and, although she leaned in the direction I asked her to go, did not move. "Shadowmere," I said, my voice rising in warning, but she did not seem to heed me, her attention fixed on whatever had claimed it earlier. I urged her forward again, harder, and still she ignored me. Then, with a gathering of her strength, she stepped away from our chosen direction and swerved hard into the trees. "Shadowmere!" I shouted, and then cursed as I was forced to manoeuvre around a swath of branches intent on knocking me from her back. She pushed on, oblivious to my anger, until we emerged on the other side of the copse and into midsized clearing. The foul stench of rotting meat assaulted my senses. I grimaced and raised an arm to bury my nose in the crook of my elbow. Foolish of me not to notice such a thing before. Foolish, stupid, and weak – I should never have let my concern Baurus cloud my senses.

Shadowmere trembled under me. I followed her gaze to the source of the rancid smell, and swallowed: A troll corpse. I slid from her shoulders, making my way cautiously to the carcass, wary of any predators or scavengers who may be about, and not entirely trusting that it was dead despite the smell and the cloud of flies buzzing about it. Trolls were notorious for their health regeneration. I never really considered them dead until their heads were several feet from their shoulders.

As I moved closer, however, it became clear that this troll was, indeed, deceased, even despite the lack of parting between its head and neck. It was covered in lacerations, some shallow, some deep, and there was a great, bloody hole in chest above its heart where it looked to have been pierced by a blade several times over. The head, too, bore a terrible, gory gash. Whatever had killed this beast, it wasn't an animal.

I turned my head to look over at Shadowmere where she waited patiently at the edge of the clearing for me.

"I don't know why you wanted to show me this," I said as I watched her fidget. "You're frightened three times over by this thing, and I don't see how it's of any use to me." She lowered her head and continued to watch me, her dark eyes flickering back and forth between me and the corpse. I frowned and made to rise.

Someone coughed.

I froze and glanced back at the troll carcass, wondering, and then motioned for Shadowmere to stay where she was before turning in the direction of the sound. Is this what had caught her attention? A survivor, perhaps? The trees were thick on the edge of the clearing opposite the Oblivion gate, and, as I made my way through them, I noticed an alarming amount of blood glistening on the silken leaves of the low lying bushes. I pushed through the growth faster, Chillrend singing from its sheath as the sound of rushing water reached my ears. The last of the leaves parted before me, and I found myself on the edge of a clear, cold stream. A cough sounded, pain filled and rattling. I cast about until my eyes landed on the prone figure of a man half submerged in the stream's water. Rushing to him, I hooked my hands gently under his arms, drew him up onto the bank, and carefully turned him over. My breath caught in my throat.

Quickly I laid one hand on the man's fevered brow, the other down his body, checking the state of his wounds. Brown eyes fluttered open beneath my palm, glazed with pain. Cracked lips whispered hoarsely. "I know," I murmured back, "I know. I'm here now. Shh, don't talk. Save your strength. I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to make you live, Baurus."

I worked long into the night, heating water, stitching flesh, binding poultices, and otherwise doing what I could to save my friend. I kept my healing potions until the end; I remembered too well Martin's words after Kvatch – _whoever healed you kept you alive, but it was not cleanly done. The wound was soiled and infection spreading_ – and refused to let something as trivial as a tiny, infected cut destroy what little my healing knowledge was able to save. My magic, too, waited until the end, and, when I had used what magicka reserves I held in my body and laid myself down, exhausted, beside him, I fell immediately into a deep and dreamless sleep.

I woke to the smell of smoke.

I shot up, my hand curling around the hilt of Chillrend, my eyes flashing about to discern the lay of the danger. Baurus was not beside me. The fire was stoked, burning merrily, and a figure… I blinked, surprised, then scowled.

"Baurus, what are you doing up? Get back to bed, immediately."

A half smile appeared on the Redguard's features as he crouched beside the fire, his dark hands adding another log to the flames. He was clothed, I noted – I had, after all, stripped him down to his undergarments to tend his wounds – although the collar of his shirt was loosely tied and revealed much of his bandage wrapped chest.

"Is that an order from the Hero of Kvatch?"

I scowled at him further.

"Yes, if it will get you back to bed. It took me most of the night to stitch you up, I'll have you know. Don't you dare think to waste all that effort."

"I won't, I swear," he said with a bit of a laugh, which swiftly turned into a grimace and a groan of pain as he put an arm to his bandaged ribs.

"See?" I said scathingly. "Look at you. You laugh and you're cringing with pain."

"It's not that bad," Baurus replied. "It'll go away in a bit."

A wave of fury broke over me.

"Four broken ribs, a broken arm, and numerous lacerations and burns don't count as 'not that bad," I said, my voice nearly a hiss. "What did you try to do, kill that troll with your bare hands?"

"No," he said defensively, and then, looking a little cowed, "I had a blade."

I raised an eyebrow at him crossly.

"A blade? You mean the one I found at the Oblivion gate?"

Baurus glanced up, surprise giving way quickly to shame, and then to obstinate resolution.

"How did you…? No, never mind. It was there when I came out, and I had to kill it. Didn't leave me much choice when it pulled it out of my hands." He drew the dagger he had hidden in his boot. "I used this one."

I stared at him flatly.

"Baurus, _that_ is a dagger_._ _This_—" I gestured at the katana still strapped to my own sword "—is a blade."

"This _is_ a blade," he argued stubbornly.

"You expect me to believe you slew a troll with a _dagger_?"

He drew himself up defensively.

"What?" he said. "You don't believe me? I'm the youngest Blade to serve in the emperor's personal guard. You think I earned that honour lightly?"

"I _assumed_ you earned that honour through outstanding ability in battle and with loyalty just like everybody else, not attempting suicide!"

"I wasn't attempting suicide!"

"Going to kill a troll with a dagger would be considered suicide by most!"

"Why does this bother you so much?"

I choked on the retort that had been waiting at the back of my throat, caught off guard by the Redguard's question. The anger filtered away as quickly as it had come.

"Because I couldn't… I don't want—" _to know you are gone… and never coming back. _"—to tell Martin that you had died," I finished lamely. "He's already beating himself up for sending you alone. To know that you had died in his service... Martin isn't ready for that kind of guilt yet."

Baurus' shoulders fell as he let out a sigh, his expression sobering as he gazed into the fire. Was it imagination, or did I see a twinge of disappointment cross his face for a moment?

"Martin will make a good emperor one day," he said quietly. "He cares for his people."

"…yes. That he does." I didn't bother to tell Baurus that sometimes a warm heart was a fatal characteristic in a leader, should he or she come upon a hard, cold decision or across a merciless truth. Let him have his idealistic fantasies while they lasted. He shifted as the silence stretched between us, his hand gradually moving to his side where I knew a raw, pale scar lingered beneath his bandages.

"Is it bothering you?" I asked quietly. "I'm not angry anymore, and I'm sure my magicka has returned enough to perform another healing."

"No," Baurus said with a shake of his head. "It's fine. You must be tired after last night. I can manage."

Renegus' leg crumbling under its own weight flashed across my mind.

"I don't want you to 'manage'. Here, let me see." I rose and crossed our little camp, kneeling beside Baurus as he half-heartedly made to wave me away. I fixed him with a look and he quieted. Lifting his shirt, I inspected the bloodied bandages – the remnants of the cloak I bought in the Imperial City – and tsked. "You shouldn't push yourself," I admonished, unwinding the cloth. He tensed as I laid a hand on the freshly bared flesh there, but said nothing when I gazed up at him with questioning eyes. I turned my attention back to the wound, calling upon my inner reserves and trying not to think about how my bare skin was upon his.

"Martin isn't the only one who would grieve your passing," I said quietly as I worked. Baurus didn't reply. He had turned that rather becoming shade I'd seen before at Cloud Ruler, but I pretended not to notice, although a small smile did tug at the corners of my lips. The magic sang through my fingertips and into his flesh, drying the blood and knitting the torn skin back together. Slowly he relaxed under my hand. I felt his eyes on the top of my head.

"Would you grieve for me?" he asked sombrely. I caught myself just as I was about to say 'yes', my tongue loosened by the sincerity in his voice, and scoffed.

"Grieve for you? A man who gives me nothing but trouble and insists on getting himself killed for the empire? Of course not. Seems like a waste of effort."

"You've wasted an awful lot of effort to keep me alive, then." I could hear the smile in his words.

"Cheeky," I grumbled good-naturedly. "This is an investment, not a waste."

The magic flickered painfully under my fingertips, my reserves run dry after so little regeneration, and I winced. A large, brown hand settled over my own. I looked up to meet Baurus' earnest gaze.

"It's enough," he said softly, eyes unwavering. "Thank you."

For some reason I could not fathom, heat bloomed in my cheeks. I looked away, startled by it and seeking to keep him from noticing, although on my fairer skin such a thing was probably difficult to ignore.

"You need not thank me," I replied, my voice low as my mind went around in a whirlwind, trying to figure out exactly when I had turned into a blushing maiden. "Your life was in my power to save. There wasn't any other choice to make."

His hand tightened around mine.

"There was," he insisted, leaning forward and trying to catch my gaze. "You didn't have to come back. You didn't have to look for me. By Talos, you could have just left me to die in that stream, but you didn't."

I glanced up at him sharply.

"And how do you even know I was looking for you? How do you know I wasn't out here on some selfish quest?"

"Because I don't think I've ever heard a truly selfish word pass your lips. Everything you do you do for others – Uriel, Martin, even your courier, Llensa or whatever her name is. Despite whatever you say you've done you're the most honourable person I know."

I glanced away, eyes downcast.

"I'm not honourable, and you barely know me," I said. "I'm sure there are many more admirable people in the Blades."

A crooked smile caught his lips.

"This again? I thought we'd left it behind in Luther Broad's," he teased. "Sara… you do things that other people wouldn't even think of. Lay your life down for Tamriel? Close Oblivion gates? No one else does that."

"You do all these things."

"Without an oath to hold me? Not quite."

"I doubt you need your oath to inspire such deeds. It's who you are, Baurus."

"And from what I've seen, it's who you are, too."

I didn't meet his gaze, instead frowning lightly as I extracted my hand from his grip. He let it go without protest.

"And what if I really am doing all these things for selfish reasons?" I asked. "What if I'm only doing it out of atonement? Out of fear?"

"To that," Baurus replied soberly, "I'd have to ask what you've done to frighten yourself so much."

I drew back, my mouth pressed into a thin line.

"I asked you not to question me about my past."

Baurus blinked.

"I didn't ask you anything!"

"'What are you frightened of, Sara? What deep, dark secret haunts you?' Sounds like a question to me."

"I didn't say that."

"Didn't you?"

"Not quite."

"But you wanted to. It's still prying."

I rose and crossed the camp, settling onto my bedroll with my back to him and busying myself with untying his katana from my own sword.

"Sara…" His voice was imploring, but he trailed off, sighing. "I'm sorry if I've offended you," he said eventually. "I didn't mean to pry. I just wanted to let you know how highly I think of you, and how grateful I am to you for saving my life."

I was silent, thinking on his words. When I spoke, it was in a hushed, subdued tone.

"I'm not offended, Baurus. I'm… afraid."

"Afraid?"

Although I could not see him, the confusion in his voice was unmistakeable.

"My past is dark, deadly, and more vengeful than you can imagine," I explained. "I try to leave it behind as much as possible, but you… you are very apt at dredging it up without meaning to and with little warning."

Baurus was still a moment.

"Is that why you were so angry when you found out about Luther Broad's?" he asked. "You were afraid I'd heard something I shouldn't have?"

"Yes," I replied quietly. The Blade fell silent at that. I finished separating the two swords, and rose and crossed the camp to him, offering the weapon solemnly. He took it without a word, looking preoccupied, and I returned to my own seat. The fire crackled as I settled myself down.

"Is someone hunting you, Sara?" Baurus asked finally, looking up and over at me. I didn't fail to note his use of the word 'hunted' rather than 'looking for' or some similarly tame phrase, and wondered exactly how much of my sleep talking at Luther Broad's had been in Bosmeri.

I shook my head.

"No. Well, maybe. There's been nothing to suggest I'm still being sought out, but I can never be sure. It would be too risky to find out definitively."

"Are you in any danger?"

"If they're still looking for me, yes. But the incident that caused all this happened many years ago, and those involved would have to, first, still be alive, and, second, recognize me.

"And how likely is that?"

"I don't know. Most of those involved were Men, but they were not all so old as to have passed on by now. It's more than likely their choice of lifestyle has brought to them their end, but... " I trailed off and shrugged. "I survived this long by making sure they thought me dead. But if they were to reconsider that assumption, it would only take one slip."

"Is this why you refused membership with the Blades?"

"Partly," I admitted. "But if I really didn't want to be showcased, I wouldn't have accepted the championship of the Guild. I'm too vain for my own well-being." I sighed, shaking my head at my own stupidity. I should have never accepted the championship of the Guild. I should have just kept my head down for a century or so until they were all assuredly dead and then gone out to live my life. And now all this "hero" business... "I'm not a Blade," I said fervently, raising my eyes to his and trying to make him understand. "I'm not good, or honourable, or any of those things you seem to think I am. I'm a thief and a––" I choked on the words, not wanting to say them but needing him to understand. "I'm a murderer, Baurus. No matter how fast or far I run, I'll never be able to escape that truth."

Baurus frowned at my last statement, unease flickering across his face.

"A murderer?" he said. I dropped my gaze to the fire.

"Yes," I said as I closed my eyes, wishing that the innocent faces still lingering before them would disappear as easily as the image of the fire. "A murderer." I opened my eyes. Baurus continued to stare at me with an expression I couldn't decipher, and I turned my face away, unable to bear it. "Just... a couple months ago," I began, feeling compelled to explain, to give some excuse. "Modryn sent me on a contract to infiltrate the ranks of the Blackwood Company. The Company was a mercenary organization like the Guild, only it had few regulations and no qualms about sending its men to complete the overly dangerous or illicit contracts we would reject. From the time they began, there were rumours of frequent 'accidents' that occurred during their contracts, but we were willing to live and let live, despite the strain their presence put on our business – or lack thereof, more like. At least, we _were_ until they killed the sole surviving son of our then guild master. I was chosen to infiltrate because I had encouraged the guild master's son to take contracts behind her back, and she didn't take lightly to the news when it was learned that her son had been killed on such a one. She demoted me two ranks, so no one was surprised by my 'defection'. The Blackwood Company said they would be glad to have me, only I needed to prove my intentions before becoming a full-fledged member and learning all their secrets."

I paused, the memories flooding in: the scent of the Khajiit beside me, the excited, eager atmosphere of the room, the sweet taste of the potion on my tongue.

"They made me drink bad hist sap before going on a mission," I said, "to 'give me strength and courage', and to prove my loyalty. It was drink or be exposed, so I did as they bade. We went to the village of Water's Edge to engage a clan of goblins who were terrorizing the villagers there. I remember thinking how strange it was that many of them didn't fight back. I blacked out halfway through the battle, and woke up in Modryn's house in Chorrol some time later. When I told him about Water's Edge, he sent me back to check on the villagers. Had a bad feeling, he said. When I got there, they were dead." I paused, swallowing back the bitter taste of guilt. "In our hist addled state, we'd mistaken the villagers for the goblins we'd been hired to protect them from. No one survived. Not even the children."

My conscience burned as I remembered the little form of a boy, shrouded by his mother's bloodied arms. I'd killed him, I knew. I remembered thinking how odd it was for a goblin to be so small. Even as an assassin, I'd never before stooped to such abominable depths as killing children.

"I'd… heard about that," Baurus said quietly. "About a village being murdered. I didn't realize the Fighters Guild was involved in it."

"That's because it wasn't," I snapped, sorrow and shame suddenly turning to defensiveness and guilt inspired anger. "Weren't you listening? I was working with the Blackwood Company! The Fighters Guild has _rules_, regulations, codes of conduct. Modryn would never allow –" I stopped, catching my temper before it ran away with me, and forced myself to calm. "Modryn would never endorse such dangerous practices," I continued more evenly. "That's why I was there. We wanted to stop any more accidents from happening to any innocents in the way, _and _to our defected once-guild-mates and the clients they served." _It was just ill luck for the villagers that I was chosen – I, who was raised by the Night Mother and who carries Sithis' deadly touch wherever I go. I, who brings bloodshed to those otherwise unstained despite my best intentions._

Across the fire Baurus shifted, his brow furrowed in thought.

"So let me get this straight," he said slowly. "You were told to work for the Blackwood Company to stop them from doing any more damage. You kept your cover by drinking hist. You blacked out while protecting the villagers, and killed them because you thought they were goblins." He paused, and, when I said nothing to deny his claim, continued. "Sara..." He gave a sigh. "What happened was worse than bad, but you were trying to do good. You thought you were saving them. I don't think that makes you a murderer."

I looked up at him, eyebrows raised as I stared.

"I killed _children_," I said, flabbergasted that he did not understand. "Innocents! In cold blood! Did you miss that part?" It was just like when I'd woken up at Modryn's. He'd tried to convince me it hadn't been my fault, too. How was it that fighting men did not understand the concept of murder?

"You were trying to protect them," Baurus reasoned. "The conditions were outside of your control. If anything the fault lies with your guild master, who sent you on a dangerous mission alone. If he hadn't, maybe you wouldn't have had to drink hist."

I snapped my mouth shut, looking away.

"It isn't Modryn's fault. Don't try to make it his," I said vehemently. "_I_ made a choice. _I_ chose the mission over the lives of those villagers."

Baurus shook his head at me, disbelieving.

"You're not serious, are you? You don't honestly think you _chose_ your mission over their lives?"

I turned my gaze back to him, fierce.

"I didn't _have_ to drink hist!" I argued, desperate, hurt, and angry. "I could have given my life then and there to stop them from their idiocy, or when I drank it I could have made some excuse about how sick I felt, or… something! Everyone knows only Argonians are immune to hist's effects. At worst I would have been expelled for failing my initiation, but at least I wouldn't have killed the villagers."

"And instead no one would have known the Blackwood Company was behind it, and more people could be paying for it now," Baurus said. He shook his head and the denial on my tongue quieted as I stared at him, stilled by his words. "I'm not saying that the price was worth it," he continued. "I don't like seeing you hurt like this, and those villagers shouldn't have had to die. But since they did, doesn't it do their memory more justice to look at what their sacrifice made happen instead of what it was?" He paused for a moment. "Because you went back and destroyed the hist tree, didn't you? I remember hearing about that. It was you, wasn't it?"

I gave a slight nod. "Yes," I said quietly, but I was distracted, distant. Was it true? Was there really some good to what had happened, some other purpose? Was I really… not so much to blame?

"Is this whole mess the reason you think you're not good enough for the Blades?" Baurus asked quietly. I paused in my thoughts, caught off guard by his question.

"And if it is?" I replied, too weary to argue with him any longer.

"Then you need to let it go. You're a good person, Sara. Stop punishing yourself so much for this."

Angry sorrow washed through me. He didn't understand. He didn't know this was the least of my crimes – the _least _of them. I was a murderer no matter what was said. Dozens had died at my hands, entire families, all for no reason other than their names had been spoken by an uncaring tongue, and with little to no regret or guilt on my part. To comfort me in my suffering, to suggest that I forgive myself and ignore the retribution of my victims, to make me believe for one instant that out of my evil something good could come, was... _cruel_. It cut to the bones of my soul like a knife.

"You don't know. You can't understand," I said, my voice thick with grief.

"I can't, can I?" he replied. "Then what about Kvatch, Sara? What about all those people who died because of _my_ mistake?"

I raised my eyes to his.

"You don't honestly blame yourself for Kvatch," I said. He didn't reply and turned his face away. My expression became incredulous. "Baurus, Kvatch was _not_ your fault," I said, trying to convince him. "We had no way of knowing the daedra were going to attack there. And as far as we know only Jauffre was aware of Martin's existence! How could you have prepared?"

He was quiet a moment. When he next spoke, his voice was low and broken.

"I let him die, Sara. I failed Emperor Uriel. I failed the empire. This Oblivion crisis wouldn't even be happening if I had done better."

I rose and moved to his side, hesitatingly placing a hand on his arm as I tried to catch his gaze.

"Please tell me you don't believe that."

"Shouldn't I?" He looked at me. "You seem pretty sure you're to blame for what happened at Water's Edge. How is what happened at Kvatch any different?"

"It's…" I glanced away while I searched for the words. "I didn't have trained assassins coming after what I was trying to protect," I said. "I made a conscious choice to do something I knew was dangerous. You didn't. You were just doing your duty in conditions that were against you."

"Isn't that what you were doing, too?"

I opened my mouth to reply, and then shut it. Maybe part of what he said was true, that I was working in conditions that were against me, but I didn't feel it excused my poor judgement. My skills lay in subterfuge, infiltration, and assassination. If there was one thing that mission had taught me, it was that skills shouldn't be abandoned simply because they were developed through illegal means. I could have ignored Modryn's orders and sneaked in and found the hist tree on my own. It would have been difficult – I had been trying so hard to be the woman Modryn wanted me to be; I had wanted to forget, again, my former life and grasp the future he'd held out – but it might have saved lives. And even if I had chosen to use the skills I'd so painstakingly perfected, I hadn't needed to contend with fate; my defeat had not been foretold by the gods, the stars, or the grieving voice of man knowing he was to die.

"It might be true that the conditions were against me," I said slowly, "but they were not as slanted against my mission as they were against yours." I paused, glancing down to think on what I was about to reveal before meeting his gaze again. "Emperor Uriel knew he was going to die, Baurus. He knew this invasion was to happen."

The Blade stared at me for moment.

"He… he knew? He knew he was going to die?" His expression hardened, and he grasped me roughly by the arm. "How do you know this?" he asked. "What makes you think I believe you?"

"What makes you believe anything I say?" I asked gently. He held my gaze for a moment longer and then released my arm, turning away. When he didn't say or do anything further, I continued. "Do you remember how we stopped in the ruins to give him a chance to rest?" I asked. "You may recall that he and I spoke. He told me he knew he was going to die, that the stars and his dreams had ordained it. When I asked about the rest of us, he said that his stars were not ours, and that, somehow, he believed Akatosh's power could still defeat the coming darkness. He believed that I had been put in that cell for a reason, that _everything_ that had led to that moment in the ruins was for a reason."

Baurus remained silent. When he spoke, it was with a rough, cracked voice.

"Why did he lead us with him if he knew he was going to die? There were so many of us – Hepharion, Vasidius, Glenroy, Renault – they all died to protect him." He put his hands to his head, pressing in at the temples as if to expel whatever dark thoughts lingered there. "If he knew, why did he waste our lives?"

I put a hand on the Redguard's back, my face sympathetic.

"I don't think he knew until that moment," I said kindly. "He was surprised to see me in the cell. Surprised, grieved, and relieved to discover I was who I was. I think if he had known from the start, he would have tried to leave you behind."

"Not that we would have let him," Baurus said with a laugh that was nigh a sob.

"Probably not," I agreed gently, and I paused as I thought about the words I was about to speak. "For… what it's worth, I'm glad you were there."

He raised his eyes to mine then, and I saw in their dark depths all the pain and sorrow he had been carrying for the last fortnight, pain and sorrow and guilt at his failure to defeat fate, to protect and serve as he had sworn. How had I been so blind as not to see it?

"Thank you," he said roughly, and then he returned his gaze to the flames. I nodded sympathetically and retrieved my hand from his back, preparing to rise.

"Could we… Could we stay like this a little longer?" he asked, and I stared at him, faintly surprised. A wan smile graced my lips as I looked on him fondly.

"As you wish," I replied affectionately, settling down properly once more. "But only if I'm allowed to poke and prod you and make sure you're healed to my satisfaction."

He nodded, a half grin cracking the grief of his face.

"I owe you my life and more now," he replied. "I'm yours to do whatever you want with."

"And that," I said with a growing smile, "_is_ a response I usually get from men."

I think it was safe to say Baurus broke the record for deepest blush in the history of Tamriel.

I was just happy to see him smile.


	12. Azura's Chosen

It wasn't much later that we were on the road again, heading for the Gutted Mine. I was still unsatisfied with the extent of his healing – and mine, to be honest, but I wasn't about to let him know I'd had magic rip through me unchecked and untreated not long ago, and was suffering for it – but the Blade had convinced me (more or less) that the sooner we finished his task, the sooner we would be back at Cloud Ruler and among the healers who could care for him there. I was also happy to learn that, if nothing else, he _had_ been able to gain Azura's ear and win himself a quest to complete for her favour.

"Not that you should really need to prove anything to her," I mused as I led Shadowmere along. Baurus rode – his own horse having been slain by the troll – much to his chagrin. His riding had been part of the deal we'd made for our keeping on with his quest. "You've closed an Oblivion gate already. Honestly, what more does she want? And you better watch out – it only takes one Oblivion gate before they're praising you and calling you 'hero' and wanting your mark."

The Blade snorted.

"I'll leave that to you, thanks," he told me. "Besides, I had six Moth Priests at my back going in, and the daedra were disorganized. I doubt it was as much trouble as fending off a prepared invasion force."

It was my turn to snort.

"'Disorganized', 'it's a blade'," I scoffed. "Hah! You've a talent for understatement, my friend."

"Somehow I think I've learned that talent from you."

"From me? Certainly not."

"Because closing an Oblivion gate and fighting through the night is 'nothing', right?"

"…cheeky."

"So you say."

I held my tongue as we crossed a particularly treacherous patch of mountainside, carefully ensuring Shadowmere followed my steps exactly. She did, of course. She was Shadowmere, after all. She was getting oats when we got back to Cloud Ruler, or so I'd promised her. I was feeling particularly warm towards her after her finding of Baurus yesterday evening.

"So what exactly is this quest you've been sent on?" I asked once we'd passed over the rough patch of ground. "And why is it that we need a daedric artefact to begin with?"

"Martin has been working on deciphering the Mysterium Xarxes while you've been away," he explained. "So far he has learned that there are four items needed to open a portal like the one you said Mankar Camoran used. The first is a daedric artefact. He sent me to the Shrine of Azura, since that was the closest one he knew of." He paused. "Not sure how I feel about him being an ex-daedra worshipper."

"If you can forgive me my misdeeds, you can certainly forgive his," I told him. Baurus made some sort of non-committal noise. "Oh, don't be such a Redguard. Conjuration is as legitimate a school of magic as restoration or mysticism, and that's all he's kept from his worshipping days." Again the non-committal noise. I rolled my eyes. "So, Martin needs a daedric artefact," I said, deciding not to argue the subject further. "You went to the Shrine of Azura and received an audience. What does she want us to do?"

Baurus paused.

"She wants us to kill vampires."

"Vampires?" I said with a groan. "Ugh."

"Yeah. Apparently she had some followers who – hey, you alright?"

I waved his worry away, shaking my head.

"I'm fine, Baurus. I just… have a strong dislike of vampires." _They're resistant to death, would love to eat me, and remind me far too much of a certain 'friend' from the past._

"Yeah, I remember you saying as much in the sewers. Along with rats, goblins, and the smell, right?"

"Something like that."

"You sure you're okay?"

I glanced back, flashing the Blade a winning smile.

"I'll be fine, don't worry," I reassured him, at the same time attempting to reassure myself. "We'll just kill the bastards and get out quick. I don't like them, but I'm not going to panic like a noblewoman around a mouse."

Baurus chuckled at that, and let the subject drop.

It didn't take us much longer to reach the Gutted Mine.

We stopped a short distance away from the plain, wooden door that served as the entrance. Baurus watched it a moment before turning his gaze down on me.

"Doesn't look too bad," he said. "You stay here with… Shadowmirror, was it?"

"Shadowmere… the Third, actually."

He raised an eyebrow at this, but knew me enough by now not to question it.

"You stay here with Shadowmere," he began again, "and I'll go into the mine. If the sun starts to set before I get out, I want you to leave without me."

"Do you honestly think I'm going to stay out here while you go in there?" I asked. "Do you honestly think I'd leave you _behind_?"

"Look, I'm grateful for what you've done for me, but I can't let you go into danger I know I can protect you from. Besides, Azura gave me this quest. I'm going to finish it."

I folded my arms in front of me as he dismounted stiffly, my eyes watching him irritably.

"You're barely in any condition to fight," I told him. "And those are _vampires_. Hungry vampires, who haven't fed in who knows how long. Their power will be tenfold."

"I'll manage. As I said: Azura gave me this quest and I'll do it. Martin needs me to."

"'Martin needs you to', bah! What Martin _needs_ is for you to come back alive."

"And if I don't, he needs _you_ there to guide him."

"Baurus," I growled, "you—" I stopped, forcing myself to calm before I continued. "We need to work together," I said, as much to myself as to him. "I don't like the idea of you going alone as much as you don't like the idea of me coming. I don't know where you got this impression, but I'm not some delicate jewel of a woman who needs protecting. I'm a warrior, the Champion of the Fighters Guild, the Hero of Kvatch. Don't take me for less than I am."

"And I'm a Blade of the Empire. You think _I_ enjoy being taken for less than I am?"

I stared up at him, arms crossed and expression sour. Presently I looked away.

"Touché," I grudgingly admitted. I savoured my frustration for a moment longer, and then let it melt away. "Look," I said after heaving a sigh and uncrossing my arms. "Let's make a compromise. You let me come with you, and I let you go in."

"That sounds mysteriously like you getting your way."

"Do you think you could stop me from following you?" He had nothing to say to that, so I continued on. "Baurus, we may be able to close Oblivion gates on our own, but we're only one man and one woman each. I'll admit: I'm tired and wounded. Rest would be appreciated. Yet being coddled would not. I don't want a companion who pampers and shelters me. I want a companion who sees me as an equal, someone who shares the burden and gives me credit when it's due. Someone at whose side I can stand proudly, and who stands just as proudly at mine." I paused, looking at him. "I respect your abilities, Baurus. It is my hope you respect mine as well."

He looked at me quietly.

"I do," he said.

"Then can we be companions?" I asked. "Equals?" I gave him a half grin. "You promise not to worry about me and I promise not to kick you in the backside for getting yourself nearly killed?"

A smile touched his lips briefly, and he remained very still as he watched me, eyes searching my face for some answer I wasn't sure I could give. Slowly he nodded, first with hesitance, and then with resolved determination.

"I can do that," he said with greater solemnity than I had expected. He looked past me towards the unimpressive door shutting the mine off from the rest of the world, and by the time he glanced back at me all seriousness had faded. A grin suffused his features. "Time to kill some vampires, wouldn't you say?" he asked, and I smiled roguishly, drawing my bow and readying an arrow.

"I've never been more ready."

We turned and slipped into the mine silently, the door opening easily under Baurus' hand. I gestured for him to pause once we were inside, and I cast my detect life spell, eyes flicking about as I tried to catch of a glimpse of the telltale, purple glow. Baurus glanced at me expectantly. I shook my head. No vampires as far as I could see. We stepped a little further into the mine.

There was a trap at the bottom of the first shaft, and I impressed Baurus with my skill in disabling it. When he looked at me questioningly, I mouthed 'Celesti', and he gave an amused smile before continuing on. He moved a tad noisily for my taste; I suppose that was to be expected since he had donned his heavy Blade armour once more. I summoned my magic again and followed.

The first shaft lead to a junction, from whence our path split two ways out of a lamp lit room of shored up walls laced with heavy veins of silver. I cast my spell again; purple flared in my right eye. I noted its location as the magic died, and motioned to Baurus. _One enemy, that way_. He nodded. We moved forward with practised ease, and I was grateful for Baurus' skill and training. It made working with him much easier, nigh natural in feel. We passed a coffin on our right, which I scrupulously checked for any of our undead brethren, and then we were in the next tunnel. I saw Baurus' hand clench around his blade and his jaw tighten. It seemed he liked this no better than I.

Although we knew it was there, the first vampire came upon us unexpectedly. It rounded the corner ahead of us rather suddenly, and it was only on pure reflex that I raised my bow and shot in the split second where it was as stunned as we were. I sent another arrow hurtling at it as it staggered, dumbfounded by the arrow sprouting from beneath its collarbone, and it sunk deep into its throat, reducing any cry it might give to a wet gurgle. In the next heartbeat I'd feathered another one through its heart. It burst into ash, the longsword in its hand falling with a clang.

Baurus followed as I moved forward and scooped up a handful of the ashes littering the ground, his eyebrows raised in astonishment. I realized then that he'd never truly seen me in action before, and I smiled up at him as I gathered my arrows and stuffed the ashes into my pouch.

"Champion of the Fighters Guild," I reminded him in a whisper.

"I can see why," Baurus whispered back. A pause. "Do you think the others heard?" I raised my head from my task, casting my spell. No flashes of colour.

"I don't see anything, but I wouldn't be surprised," I murmured with a shake of my head. "Be extra cautious, just in case." Baurus nodded, and then we continued deeper into the mine.

We came into another room shored up with stout, wooden beams and with two more passages leading out on either side. I looked at the paths and then glanced questioningly at Baurus – _should we split up?_ – who shook his head in response to my unspoken query.

"We stick together," he said quietly. I nodded my understanding. It's not like I really wanted Baurus to be on his own, anyway. Not with him still recovering as he was. Or me, for that matter. A dangling rope caught my eye, a rock tied on the end to hold it down, and I frowned at it. If I stared at the wall just beyond it, I thought I could faintly make out the outline of a door. I glanced around, but saw nothing. I took several steps forward to investigate.

"Sara!" Baurus shouted. I started, whirling around in time to see a pair of vampires charging in from either passage before a fireball caught me full in the chest. _Ambush. _It blew me back, crashing me into the wall. I had but a moment to fight back the pain and gather my wits before a figure loomed over me, and I rolled to the side more out of reflex than thought. The heavy claymore of the once-Orc assaulting me split the ground inches from my shoulder.

_Where's Baurus? _I didn't have time to think further on my companion's predicament, as the sword near my side rose, and I scrambled up to try and gain some distance between us. Where was my bow? It'd been wrenched from my hand when I'd been struck by the fireball. _Chillrend, Chillrend! Draw Chillrend!_ a voice in me screamed. I faced the vampire attacking me, my hand going to Chillrend's hilt, but I released it and dodged back as the long bladed sword came whistling my way. It nicked my breastplate, leaving a long scratch in the buffed, golden surface. I danced back again, ducking and weaving as I tried to avoid the next swing of the deadly weapon. Between strikes I managed to draw my own blade. Shortsword versus claymore. Why couldn't I remember my swordplay lessons?

The vampire roared and swung down her sword, hard. I sidestepped her blow and moved in to strike, blade whistling for her head. A heavy, gauntleted hand came up, knocking my attack away. I growled and brought my elbow up to smash in her teeth, but she dodged that easily and rewarded my efforts by bashing her own head into mine. I reeled away, stunned. She hefted her sword once more. Stars danced before my vision. The blood pounded in my ears. It was difficult to stay oriented. Again the vampire roared. I managed to gather myself enough to block her strike, but her attack was much stronger and the impact sent shards of fire lancing up my arm. She struck again, the full force of her weight behind it, and, although I tried desperately to hold on, Chillrend was wrenched from my grasp. I watched despairingly as it clattered across the stones. The vampire stepped up again and swung at me. I ducked, gathering my power and sending a fireball hurtling towards her face. She screamed and raised her hand to her head, staggering back as the magic sizzled away. I took the opportunity to locate my bow. _There! By the pull rope with the weighted end!_ I dashed for it, picking it up with frenzied hands and frantically drawing an arrow. There was a pain-filled cry from nearby and a roar of indignation quickly following it – Baurus and his enemy, most likely – and then the hidden door behind me opened. I spun around to face whatever new danger it unleashed. The snarl on my lips quickly faded as a flash of magic bloomed before my eyes and a sense of calm enveloped me.

At first I thought it was a vampire who stood before me, but no, it was just a man. A Breton, in fact, with the most luminescent eyes of a brown so bright it was almost red.

"What are you doing here?" I rasped, my breath ragged from the fight. Where was the Orc vampire? Had my spell killed her? Was she creeping up on me even now as I stood unawares? Yet even as I wondered these things they did not seem terribly important. The man… he had my attention. Only he was significant.

The man took a step forward, a pale hand held aloft in a calming gesture. The bow I held readied in my hand grew slack, and the point of the arrow dipped ever more downward.

"I'm here same as you," he said serenely, taking another step forward. "I was sent to 'release' Azura's followers from their fate, but they were too powerful. I locked myself in this hidden room, and destroyed the mechanism opening it from the other side. I have been waiting for someone like you to find me. Why don't you come inside where it's safe?"

Something burned at the back of my mind, but I could find no reason to distrust the man. He was right; I _should_ go where it was safe. My sword was lost, my head ached… I was in no condition to fight. I should rest, recover, and, when my strength returned, I could free us both.

"Yes," the man soothed. "Come to me. I'll keep you safe."

I stepped forward as if in a daze, my mind slowly wandering in lazy circles. It was funny. In this dark light, I could almost imagine that he was Vicente, and that we were not in a mine but a warm, dark corner of the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. The Vicente look-alike opened his arms to me, welcoming me closer. When I moved within reach, his hand came down to brush my cheek.

"You are so very lovely," he said. I closed my eyes at the touch.

_"But why should I not be a vampire?" I asked. "Vicente has offered the gift willingly and I would deign to accept."_

_"You are too young to make such a decision."_

_Ocheeva's voice was rough, distracted. Her quill hovered over a manuscript. I gave a laugh._

_"Too young?" I said. "Too young? I'm eighteen years old. Girls are women at eighteen years old."_

_"Girls _think_ they are women at eighteen years old, and human girls at that. Speak to Telaendril. She will tell you you are young. You've a hundred years or so before you're a woman."_

_"This is unfair," I complained. "Lucien was offered the gift at sixteen!"_

_"And he was wise enough to decline it," Ocheeva added._

_"You're just jealous because he never offered it to you," I snapped._

_"I never wanted the gift, and Vicente was smart enough to know it," she replied calmly. "Do you really want to be a girl forever?"_

_"It couldn't be much worse than being one for the next _century_."_

_Ocheeva sighed and put her quill down, raising her red eyes to me. When she said nothing, but waited patiently for me to say what was truly on my mind, I looked away._

_"What if he wants me to be a vampire?" I asked, folding my arms in front of me. I resisted the urge to lift my hand to my cheek where he had touched me once as he explained his offer. "What if this isn't simply about _my_ feelings and childishness?"_

_Ocheeva was silent, watching me. I could discern naught of her thoughts when I glanced her way._

_"Vicente has all of eternity before him," she said finally, yet not without kindness. "He can wait until you have had a chance to experience your mortality."_

_I let out a sigh, lowering my arms._

_"There is no way I can convince you?" I asked._

_"No, child. Not this time. When you are older and have had time to consider the consequences of such a decision, I will support whatever choice you make. But not now."_

_I remembered going to Vicente. I remembered telling him of my decision, of Ocheeva's intervention. I remembered him nodding in agreement, bowing to her wisdom. I remembered how I left the room, wishing for something other than the cool, calm, collected exchange that had happened. I didn't remember him catching me at the door. I didn't remember him taking me in his arms. I didn't remember him lowering his head to my neck. I had never asked for that. We had agreed not to share the gift. I was to wait. So why was he touching his lips to my skin? Why was he baring his teeth? Why was he...?_

Pain erupted in the side of my neck, iron arms crushing me to a cold, undead chest as the vampire's charm spell broke and I came to my senses. The vampire's teeth sank deep into my skin, and I screamed with the agony and indecency of it. The vampire growled and clutched me tighter, pinning my arms and determined not to let me escape.

"Baurus!" I cried, hoping against hope that somehow he was still alive and in a position to help me. My booted foot kicked against the vampire, catching him sharply in the shin, and he drew up his head to snarl at me.

"Insolent whelp!" he spat. "I'll teach you to—" I didn't let him finish. Planting me feet as well as I could, I heaved my weight against him, knocking my head against his teeth as I desperately tried to push him off balance. He released me, staggering back, and I fell in an unceremonious heap, my hands barely breaking my fall. I heard a sword singing from a sheath. My eyes lifted in time to see him rear back to strike, face twisted in a snarl. I snarled back, hand grasping for my bow and knowing I would not have time to defend myself.

"For the Empiiiiiiiiire!"

The vampire's blade descended, only to be batted aside at the last moment by Baurus' singing sword. The Blade charged the immortal, war cry rebounding off the mine walls and eyes bright in blazing fury. I scrambled up to my feet, sweeping up my bow and reaching for an arrow. The world spun as I went to nock it, and I staggered, leaning against the wall to keep myself upright. How much blood had I lost?

I had little time to consider, however, as another infuriated cry rang out in the dank shafts of the mine, calling my attention. A fifth vampire had appeared, a once-Altmer. She stopped short of me and drew her bow up with practised ease, quickly taking aim at me. I threw myself to the side as she released, barely avoiding the deadly shaft. Rolling to my feet, I struggle to control my vertigo as came up and let an arrow fly in her direction, missing her by a good two feet. She laughed and fired again at me, and once more I was barely able to dodge her attack. Ducking into one of the side passages, I listened as another arrow ricocheted off the rock where I had been but a moment before. _Damn it all to Oblivion! Any other time and this would be easy!_

Closing my eyes, I willed the world to stop spinning and took a deep breath, forcing my racing heart to slow and my body to calm.

"Come out and face me!" the vampire challenged. "Or are you afraid to die?"

I readied an arrow, setting it across my bow as I continued to take deep breaths of the mine's stifling air, letting my senses wander free and expand beyond my body. The bow in my hand became a part of me, the rock at my back intimately known. I could hear the once-Altmer moving closer, hear – but be unaffected by – her cajoling cries, could feel her very presence, the space she filled up in the air. I took in a deep breath, let it half out, and then stepped out from behind the corner.

She was waiting for me. Her arrow sped from her bow, but I sidestepped it and drew my bow up, releasing my own arrow in the span of a breath. It hit her squarely in the chest – not in the heart as I'd desired, but a damaging shot none-the-less – and she staggered from the force of it. My world tilted, but I caught myself and willed my body into proper form, drew another arrow and shot her in the chest again. She cried out and raised her bow to fire, but my next arrow was already readied, my breath in perfect synch, and I released it to hit her straight in the heart. Her eyes opened wide, and then she exploded into a showering of ash as her bow clattered to the ground. I lurched to the side, my focus dissipated with the defeat of the enemy, and caught myself against the wall. I felt sick. I had to sit. Too much blood gone. How much had he taken?

"Sara!"

There were uneven, pounding footsteps as Baurus rushed to my side. There was a gash above his forehead that bled into his eyes, but he paid it little heed as I turned to him and reeled. He caught me in his arms and steadied me. I looked up and gave him an exhausted, crooked smile.

"See? This is why I hate vampires."

A portion of the worry disappeared from his face at my words, and a wry grin touched his features.

"I guess you can't be too hurt if you're cracking jokes," he said.

"You've never seen me when I'm really bad," I replied, still offering my crooked smile.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

"Can you?" I retorted, nodding at the leg he favoured noticeably.

"Yeah. I'll be fine. Got me with a bit of magic. The feeling'll come back in a bit."

"Oh, I think there's feeling now," I replied, and then we threw our arms about each other's shoulders and made our slow way out of the mine.

We rode double on Shadowmere – neither of us was in much condition to walk – Baurus behind me with his arms about my waist, half to keep himself on and half to keep me from falling should my frequent waves of vertigo worsen to a true faint. When we arrived sometime later, I let Baurus approach Azura's effigy alone to deliver the news of our success – it had been his quest, after all, and he deserved the credit for it. Mels Maryon was happy to heal my wounds – and Baurus' – once it became clear we had earned his lady's favour, although he chided me for taking so long to get – what turned out to be – my internal injuries properly treated.

"If you didn't have potions or magic or... whatever you used, you would have died," he said. Baurus looked at me questioningly, frowning, and I looked away.

"The Mythic Dawn attacked me in Chorrol," I said in flat tones. "The Fighters Guild main hall is gone. They burned it down. Killed one of my men. I didn't have time to wait to heal."

"Well you should have," Mels replied with a snort, and then he rose and made to attend to his lady. Baurus continued to stare at me, and so, when we set out, me on Shadowmere and Baurus on foot, I explained to him in a dull voice about the attack and my visit with my Thieves Guild associate. I told him about the list I'd given Renegus Armillian, but neglected to tell of how exactly we'd come to meet in the Imperial City. I tried not to think again of how close I had come to sinking back into the dark, wicked creature I had once been, and of how I had utterly abandoned Modryn Oreyn in his hour of need once again. It was that thought that hurt me the most. He deserved someone better than me.

Baurus listened without a word until I finished. Then he said, simply, "The Mythic Dawn will pay."

I had never felt so distant from him as in that moment. He deserved someone better too.


	13. You Were Coming Back

**A/N: **For those of you who have been following me for a while or read versions previous to June 24th, 2012, be warned: there have been some changes (I've improved in my writing quite a bit since I first started this story, and wanted to iron out some inconsistencies and dead end plot points)! While I do suggest you go back a reread it, I'll give you a list of the most significant changes (that I can remember off the top of my head):

1) Sara no longer has an aversion to Bruma

2) Tar-Meena now reacts more appropriately upon seeing the Commentaries (this one's thanks to you, Ellagne!)

3) Baurus doesn't have a death wish. Instead, he likens Sara's belief of her guilt over the massacre at Water's Edge to his own guilt over the massacre at Kvatch ("what about my failure, Sara? If I'd done better, Kvatch never would happened." "Please dont' tell me you believe that." "Shouldn't I? You seem pretty bent on your guilt.")

4) There's no Holger scene (it was superfluous). This is the biggest scene I cut, I think, but several others have been trimmed down to their essentials to cut down on unnecessary information and word count.

5) Sara is no longer greviously injured by the end of the previous chapter (before it was chapter 14, now it's chapter 12, I believe). Instead, she and Baurus manage to hobble their way over to Mels Maryon, who fixes them up. (Incidentally, the amount of chapters has been reduced by two. This has led to a couple long chapters in the middle, but I felt it broke the story up in more natural places this way.)

And, finally, I would like to thank everyone who's read this story, and, especially, everyone who's left me a review or shown me any kind of extra support. You are all wonderful and appreciated! Thanks for going on this journey with me!

Now, on to chapter 13! :D

* * *

"You know, you never answered my question."

Baurus and I weren't far from Bruma – we could see the city clearly from where we walked along the silver road, him on Shadowmere, me on foot – and I looked up at my companion.

"Oh? What question is that?" I said, knowing full well the question to which he referred.

"Back at Cloud Ruler," he replied. "Before you left. You asked me if I'd ever had a special someone. I answered. Now it's your turn."

"Oh, I don't think I remember asking that," I said. He stared down at me. I laughed. My spirits had risen significantly since the beginning of our return home to Cloud Ruler Temple. I owed much of it to him. "Okay, okay, maybe I do remember," I amended. Baurus gave a snort of agreement. I laughed again. "What do you want to know?"

"Well, _do_ you have a special someone?"

"Weren't you there when I told Llensi about Modryn and me?"

"Doesn't mean there isn't someone else."

_Scoping the territory, Baurus?_ I hid a smile.

"No, there isn't anyone else. There have been special someones, but none who've ever really returned the feeling."

"I find that hard to believe."

"What, that there isn't a special someone or that my feelings have never really been returned?"

"Both, I guess."

I gave a huff of laughter and surveyed the road ahead of us. I could see the guards standing outside the gate, their yellow tunics easily visible against the grey stone of Bruma's walls.

"It's not like I haven't had relationships," I said. "There've been lots of men in my life. Just not—"

I didn't finish my sentence. There was a sudden silence, as if all sound was being sucked away, or as if some giant creature was taking in a deep breath, and then a bolt of red lightning materialized out of the bright blue sky, a crack of thunder so loud in its wake it hurt my ears and vibrated my very bones. The bolt struck the ground some distance before Bruma's gate, and, with a horrible groaning and screeching of earth and rock, two stone pillars raised themselves from the earth and formed a jagged semicircle in the air. After a moment there was a flash of bright light from within the semicircle, and, when I could see again, the semicircle was filled with fiery, flickering light that licked and danced like fire: an Oblivion gate.

"Go!" I shouted to Baurus. As he put his heels to Shadowmere's side, I grasped her saddle and vaulted up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist just in time to keep myself from falling. Daedra began to pour from the gate. Civilians screamed; one of the guards drew his sword and engaged the daedra, the other disappeared through the open city gate.

Gripping Shadowmere with my knees, I let go of Baurus and readied my bow as best I could. I wouldn't be able to shoot – the bow I carried now was too big to use from horseback – but I would be ready when we were close enough to engage the daedra. Inside Bruma, alarms began to sound – the great, booming bells of the chapel rang in warning. Several of the guard appeared in the open gate and engaged the daedra, breaking their charge and giving the few surviving civilians a chance to make it into the city.

"Close the gates!" I heard one of them scream as he plunged his sword into a scamp. A guard fell, and then another. Baurus drew his sword, raising it in one hand as we bore down upon the daedra, roaring out a battle cry. He slashed down as we plunged into their midst. I slipped off the back Shadowmere's rump, landing easily on my feet, and drew an arrow, firing it at the nearest daedra before turning and shooting the next. The city gates began to rumble closed. A daedric voice shouted orders in a guttural tongue, and the daedra converged upon the guardsman, trying to push past them. Magic flashed from the city side of the battle, and I glanced over between shots to see a young Imperial woman standing in the slowly diminishing space between the two doors of the gate, blasting ice and lightning from her fingertips with a look of fierce determination. A guardsman fell, overwhelmed, as did another, and the daedra swarmed over their bodies and made for her.

"Baurus!" I shouted, catching the Blade's eyes from across the battlefield, jerking my head in the woman's direction before launching myself past the grasping claws of a daedroth and making for the gate. I saw fear flash across the woman's face, but she didn't falter as the daedra charged her. I raised my bow and shot, taking one down, but there were many. The woman made a complicated series of motions with her hands, and, as the daedra were about to reach her, flung out her arms and pushed them back with a wave of force that threw them off their feet. The doors were nearly closed now, a width of maybe twice her shoulders the only space between them.

"Hurry!" the woman shouted, her eyes fixed on me. I released an arrow into one of the downed daedra, and then another, and then another, vaulting over a scamp that was making to rise before sliding to a stop in front of the gate, turning with arrow readied to defend myself. Baurus cut down a dremora who made to stop him and moved to my side.

"Get inside!" the woman cried, and I glanced back at her.

"Someone has to take down that Oblivion gate," I said. "Tell Captain Burd to prepare for a siege – get the civilians into the Chapel. Send word to the Countess!"

She nodded once, wide eyed, and then the gates closed with a resounding thud. I faced forward again, watching as the daedra continued to swarm towards us. The remnants of the guardsman who stopped the initial charge rallied around us, blood dripping from weapons and wounds, and we moved together as we attempted to stave off the surrounding daedra. There was a shout from atop the walls, and a hail of arrows rained down upon the daedra nearest the Oblivion gate. They crumpled like broken dolls, screams, screeches, and cries filling the air. There were more shouts orders from above on the wall, and then another volley lanced down. Magic also roared from the walls a fireball that flung daedra from about its detonation point, and a lightning bolt that arced between several scamps before dissipating. The daedra responded with their own magic; an atronach launched two fistfuls of fire at the ramparts, eliciting cries of pain and confusion, while one of the half-woman, half-spider daedra began scaling the walls, her arachnid legs clinging to the stone with supernatural power. I turned my bow from the daedra around me to her, taking careful aim before releasing the arrow on its path to drive into her neck. She screeched with pain, but broke off the offending protrudence and pressed on. The defenders began to fire at her, and the daedra below, freed of the arrow storm that had pinned them, surged forward over the corpse ridden ground to press harder against Baurus, me, and the remaining guardsmen. A guardsman beside me crumpled to the ground, an dremora's arrow deep in his chest; another one was overwhelmed by a pack of scamps and borne to the ground. They swarmed him, a bright arc of blood spurting above them as they began feasting on his still living flesh. Baurus and one of the last remaining guards struck at them, killing some and driving the others back, but it was too late: he was dead.

"Baurus!" I shouted over the roar of the battle, my body moving reflexively to keep up with the targets my eyes sighted. "We need to close that Oblivion gate!"

There was an inhuman screech as the spider-woman tumbled from the city walls, her body a mass of scorch marks and arrows, but another two appeared from the gate and streaked across the ground to take her place.

"Doing what I can here!" the Blade yelled back. I shot a clannfear charging towards us as he dispatched a pair of scamps closing up on our flank.

"Get me to the gate," I told him. "I can do the rest!"

I saw him glance at me before engaging a dremora who came storming up with mace readied and though he would argue, but he parried, counterattacked, and slew him before meeting my eye and nodding. I nodded back.

"Soldier," he said to the last remaining guardsman. "With me!" Then he drew himself up, took in a breath, and charged into the daedra lines with a roar.

"For the Empire!"

I dashed after him, a cry on my own lips as I followed in the wake of the carnage left behind him, my bow singing as I loosed arrows to the left and right. He split the skull of a nearby scamp, redirected the blow of a clannfear with a precisely executed parry and sidestep, struck an atronach who closed in on us and dispatched it with a second strike. The guardsman at his side followed, finishing those Baurus had thrown off balance or wounded. We covered ground quickly, the viciousness of our counterattack clearly unexpected by the daedra. I drew my dagger and slashed at a dremora too close to use my bow on, gashing him across the face and sending him staggering back before sheathing it and driving and arrow into his chest. We were near the Oblivion gate now; it filled up the entirety of my vision when I looked at it, the shadows of the daedra dark before it.

I turned my attention back to the daedra, galvanized by the gate's proximity. The guard just before me slashed and hacked, grunts and cries of fury passing his lips with every strike. Baurus whirled, his bright, Akaviri blade a blur of silver among the red and black of the battle. We broke through the line of daedra and moved into the small space immediately before the Oblivion gate, spinning around to cover our rear and flanks. I could feel the heat from the gate. Then it grew dark, as if something large had just stepped out and blocked off its light. I looked back.

"Daedroth!" I shouted. I threw myself forward to avoid its attack, sensing the proximity of its claw to my feet as somersaulted away. I came up in the ranks of the daedra and drew my dagger, slashing around with quick, whirling strikes as I tried to get some ground between me and them. I ducked under a dremora's mace, vaulted over a clannfear, and dove forward past a pair of scamps, rolling to my feet beside the Oblivion gate. I fell into proper stance and drew and arrow.

"Sara!" Baurus shouted. "Go!"

My eyes flicked to him, his gaze meeting mine for but a moment, and then the daedroth claimed his attention as it lunged towards him. I looked down my arrow at the daedroth again, hesitated, then turned and threw myself into the Oblivion gate with a cry.

I materialized in Oblivion still screaming with fury. There were daedra there; a pair of dremora shouted orders and organized the mass of fifty or so lesser daedra still waiting to exit out of the gate. I drew up my bow and shot the first between the eyes before he barely had a chance to register my presence; he collapsed with a look of dumbfounded surprise on his face. The second had time to reach for his mace, but he had two arrows in his chest before he could do more.

The lesser daedra began to react. The scamps at the head of the line lunged at me. I leaned back to avoid the first's strike, drew my dagger and slashed at it, sidestepped the second's attack, slashed at the first again, and kicked the back of the knee of the second, forcing it to the ground. The third scamp screeched and clawed at me. I parried its attack with my dagger hand and punched it in the face with my bow hand, spinning around to duck under the strike of a fourth scamp. My eyes darted beyond them attempting to ascertain some point of escape as I came up and stabbed the second scamp in the throat. The tower where the Sigil Stone was no doubt kept if the daedra had any consistency was not too far off to the northeast. The entrance to the Oblivion gate was in a small gully. If I could somehow get out of the gully, I might be able to find cover and lose the daedra. It was impossible to assume that I would be able to hold off the masses here alone.

The third scamp stuck at me again and I dodged its blow, striking with my dagger and forcing it back with a hiss. The fourth scamp attacked from behind, catching me across the back, but my cuirass protected me, and I was grateful in that moment for the money I'd spent getting it enchanted to shield against such physical damage. I glanced back, noted its position and struck it in the jaw with a well-placed elbow strike when it moved forward to attack again, hooked my bow on my back and then turned and leapt up the side of the gully, scrambling to haul myself up over the edge. I had almost climbed out when lightning enveloped me. I screamed, but fought against the pain and forced my body to obey, climbing to the top even as my legs twitched beneath me and my arms trembled. Once up, I rose to my feet and began to stagger away, my strides become longer and more assured as the spell's magic wore off. I had a good dozen feet behind me before the first daedra scaled the gully's walls. A harsh female voice called out in the guttural tongue of the daedra, and, when I glanced back to note my pursuers, I noticed several of them turning back. _The attack on Bruma must be the priority. They don't think I'll make it to the Sigil Stone._ I looked forward again, willing my legs to keep moving, and dashed around a corner of rock about as tall as me, turned, reached up, and hauled myself to its top, then flattened myself against its surface and listened as the daedra who had been following me sped past, all snarls, screeches, and angry noises. I lifted my head a little and watched them as they came to a slow stop, infuriated at losing their prey and searching for me, then cautiously rose to my knees and retrieved my bow from my back. There were only about six of them, and they were dead before they realized where I was.

Lowering my bow, I collapsed back on the surface of the rock, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. It had been some time since I'd had to pull off an escape like that. I was out of shape. It'd been too long since I'd done the grunt work in the Thieves Guild, and the Fighters Guild never required such behaviour. It reminded me of when I had been an assassin, making my kill, and then fleeing across rooftops or through alleys, over walls, through gardens, up trees and building's sides. I'd never done it in full armour, no, but I had been fleet and nimble, quiet and strong.

I didn't give myself much time to rest on the rock. I didn't know if more of the daedra would come looking for me if the others didn't return, and was painfully aware of the fact that Baurus and the guardsman had precious little time before they were overwhelmed, if they weren't already. I also had a nagging feeling that there was more to the invasion that I was aware of; Kvatch had been the province's largest and greatest city next to the Imperial City, and, even taken by surprise, I couldn't believe that it had been taken by as many daedra as I had seen here. There were many, yes, but not so many that the closed city gates, the guard, the Fighters Guild, and other miscellaneous warriors couldn't handle. Rising, I climbed down off the rock and set off towards the tower.

My passage was much similar to that of my first trip through Oblivion. I went as quickly as I dared, ducking out of sight when patrols of daedra went by towards the gate, I assumed, where they would aid in the attack and taking out those who blocked my way from hidden points as quickly and secretly as possible as much as I hated to admit it, my Dark Brotherhood training served me well.

It took me about a half hour to reach the tower, and, despite my caution, I was running low on arrows. I had only about half a dozen left. Since joining the Fighters Guild I'd had many people scoff at me about the size of my quiver I packed around roughly triple the amount most foot archers carried, and more than that when on Shadowmere but now I was grateful I'd never let it get to me. If I'd done as was customary, I would have run out before I even went through the Oblivion gate. I could wield a dagger with some skill and had training in hand-to-hand combat, but those skills were much less used, and my stamina in such fighting was limited. I approached the entrance to the tower and eased it the door open, doing my best to minimize the noise produced as it ground across the stone floor. Once it was open enough for me to pass through, I slipped inside.

As it had been in the first tower, it was dark here. I waited a moment, frozen, for my eyes to adjust, detecting the slightest bit of motion where, again like the first tower, a spiralling column of fire rose up from the floor and disappeared into the ceiling. Slipping off to the side, I hid myself behind a column and cast my detect life spell. It illuminated the forms of three dremora from what I could tell and I drew an arrow and nocked it as I noted their position. Stepping out from behind the column, I shot three arrows in quick succession, hitting and silencing the three daedra before they had a chance to sound the alarm or even realize what was happening. I moved to the bodies and was able to salvage two of my arrows. I returned them to my quiver, and moved on.

The door leading out of the first room opened up into a dark hallway that curved around and upwards, following the cylindrical shape of the tower. It led into a square room with a fountain gushing red fluid and a pair of dremora warriors in daedric armour standing guard in front of the only door leading out. It was shadowy in here the only light coming from the unnatural glow of the fountain's red liquid but my eyes had adjusted, and the shadows only served to make me more confident and assured. I had worn the shadows all my life. They served me well.

It took aim at the closest dremora and dropped him with an arrow to the throat. The second dremora sprung into action, drawing his sword and charging as he launch a handful of lighting at me, but I slipped behind the corner where the hallway met the room, and it hit the wall harmlessly but for the bit of dust and couple of stone fragments it released. I readied an arrow and stepped around the corner, firing it point blank into his face as he was about to bear down upon me. He crumpled in a unceremonious heap, legs twitching for a moment before laying still. I moved forward to inspect the arrow, but it wasn't salvageable. Neither was the one in the other dremora. I was down to three arrows.

I moved to the door and laid a hand against the stone, looking for some way to open it, and it came to life, slowly pulling apart from the middle to reveal another spiralling hallway leading upwards. It levelled out after a short time, turning into a straight hallway illuminated at regular intervals by a deep red light source I couldn't identify. There was a scamp patrolling the hallway, but I managed to avoid its detection until its back was turned, and I plunged my dagger into its ribs, killing it. I went along a little farther, and came to another door like the one I had previously passed through. It too, opened easily under my hand, and I pressed on, aware that I had already taken too long. I tried not to think about Baurus' odds of survival outside the gates of Bruma and before the gate of Oblivion.

The door opened into a round chamber. In the center of it, the column of fire from the first floor continued to coil upwards, disappearing once again into the ceiling. A small walkway spiralled up around the edge of the chamber. I cast my detect life spell, noting a single life form up ahead. I made my way forward cautiously, an arrow ready, until a dremora in full daedric armour came into view. It he? was leaning against the railing of the walkway, staring with what looked like boredom into the column of fire. It was an oddly human gesture, and it startled me. But it was an enemy, and so it was with little hesitation that I raised my bow and killed him. It crumpled to the side, an arrow in his temple, and I moved to the door just beyond him. It had a keyhole, unlike any of the others I had come across so far. Remembering the last keyholed door I'd come across the last time I was in Oblivion, I went to the dremora and searched its body, coming up with a key of dark metal. I tried it in the door, and then it opened without protest.

I was at the top of the tower now. There was a short hallway, and then it opened up into a circular room with a red dome in the center. The fiery column burst out from the center of the dome, continuing on its path up the ceiling of the tower, where it extinguished. There were two jagged, red flights of stairs along the outside of the room, and they converged on a platform that jutted out towards the column, where, in the column's fire there, the Sigil Stone sat suspended. I cast my detect life spell and detected four life forms I had only three arrows.

Steeling myself, I drew an arrow and set it across my bow, taking mental note of the positions of the daedra, and then stepped into the room. The first daedra I saw was a dremora dressed in robes a mage, maybe. I took aim and released; it stumbled back from the force of the impact and collapsed, the arrow in its chest. I drew another arrow and whirled, shooting the next daedra another dremora through the head. It, too, collapsed in a heap. There was a screeching cry, and then a clannfear charged at me from my right, barely perceptible through my peripheral vision. I rolled forward, avoiding its attack, and spun around, burying an arrow in its skull at point blank range. My arrows were gone. I glanced around for the last dremora and saw it across the room, watching me. Its lips curled.

"You are out of arrows, mortal. What trick will you use now?"

I released my bow, letting it clatter to the ground, and reached up to undo the buckle on the strap holding my quiver. I lowering the quiver down by the strap to sit by my bow, my eyes never leaving the dremora. I hadn't practised with it. It would be an encumbrance.

"I don't need arrows to kill you, swine."

I reached over to my left side and drew my sword. The blue blade of Chillrend glinted in the red light as I stared at him. The dremora laughed.

"I've heard of you, "Hero of Kvatch"," it said. "It is said you are a fearsome warrior. But it is also said that you use a bow, not a sword." It grasped the sword at its side, drawing it slowly, leering at me. "I wonder which one of us is the better?"

It began to move in, slowly circling as it waited for an opportunity. I raised my sword in a defensive stance, circling with it as I also waited.

_Some, they like to go barrelling in. While that has its place, you have to be aware. Got to watch your enemy, got to know. And when the time is right, bam! That's when you strike, full force! Catch them off guard! Drive them back until they've got nowhere to go._

Modryn's voice echoed in my mind as the dremora moved just outside striking range my striking range, at least. In this situation, my Bosmer blood did me little good, as my limited height shortened my reach significantly in comparison to my enemy's. The memory of him comforted me. I strengthened my resolve.

The dremora smiled at me, revealing pointed teeth, and then it lunged.

I parried the first strike clumsily, stepping back. The dremora moved with me, still smiling as it pressed the attack, swinging again. My instincts screamed to incapacitate, to dodge and duck, to flee until a safe distance was established, but I knew that this battle could only be won one way. I blocked its strike again, stepping back, losing ground as I struggled to keep its deadly blade at bay, and the dremora laughed.

"I'm not even trying, mortal!" it said, and it swung low and then brought its blade high as I moved to parry it, slamming me in the shoulder. I staggered, and it caught me on the ribs on the other side. I roared and struck back, ignoring the pain. It parried my blow, and I brought my left hand forward to throw a fireball in its face. It knocked my hand aside, the flame only grazing the side of its face. The smile disappeared in a scowl. I brought my sword hand up to impale it, and it parried it again, sending my arm wide, opening me up to attack. Its left hand came up. Lightning shot from its fingers and engulfed me. My head snapped back. My muscled spasmed. I screamed as the attack continued.

"This place is not yours," the dremora said. "And you shall not stop us. The Prince of Destruction will have his rightful place restored to him, and there is nothing you can do to prevent it."

I heard his words only vaguely. He released me from the grasp of his magic, and I crumpled to the ground, limbs still twitching. Through blurred vision, I watched him approach me.

"We suffered a defeat at Kvatch," the dremora continued. "But you paid for your victory dearly. There is no pitiful emperor to protect you now. Defeat us, and we shall return tenfold stronger."

_Yeah, you got short reach, but the just means you have the advantage when you're closer. You can get inside their reach, make it harder to hit you. You might not think it, but a sword's only good when they're so far away._

Baurus, I thought. Are you still alive?

The dremora stopped beside me. I didn't know where my sword was, but my mind was beginning to clear.

"This is the end for you, "Hero of Kvatch"." The dremora raised its blade above its head. _Inside their reach…_

The dremora struck. I rolled towards it, the sword hitting the stone ground behind me. I grabbed its feet, pulling them with all my might towards me. It toppled back, arms flailing, borne downwards by the heavy armour it wore. I lunged on top of it, drew my dagger, and plunged it into its eye. It screamed and thrashed, hands coming up to scrabble at my face. I twisted the dagger. The hands dropped, twitched, lay still. I let the snarl on my lips fade and pulled my dagger out with a sickening squelch before heaving myself wearily up. I staggered over to where Chillrend lay, and then over to my bow and empty quiver. Returning them to their rightful places, I looked up at the Sigil Stone and began to climb the stairs towards it. Once on the platform, I stared at it a moment before steeling myself and reaching into the fire, pulling it from its place and hugging it to my breast. It was as it had been before: the world lurched, the column burst in a fiery explosion, the stones of the tower cracked. And, when it seemed as if the whole world were about to be devoured, I found myself falling to my knees, off balance, on the burnt grass in the smoking ruin of the Oblivion gate, Tamriel, Bruma.

I didn't have long to collect my wits. There were daedra all about me: scamps, daedroths, spider daedra, dremora, all of them. Their attention was on Bruma which, I was distantly relieved to see, was still standing, albeit scorched and weathered but, as the sky began to clear of its unnatural red and the lightning fade, they turned their attention back to the ruined gate. I saw a look of horror build on a nearby spider daedra's face. She lifted a hand and pointed at the gate, crying out in a terrified voice. Other daedra turned, and, with a collective cry, half of the invasion force surged towards the dead Oblivion gate. I turned and ran, cutting across the battlefield so that I was halfway between the Oblivion gate and the city, but off to the side, still as far away from the city gate as I had been before. A shout rang out from the city walls.

"It's the Hero of Kvatch!"

I looked up to see heads peering down at me, faces blackened with soot. There was more shouting, and then a guardsman in the yellow tunic of Bruma threw down a rope.

"Sarasamacial!" the guards man shouted. "Grab on!"

I dashed forward, ducking under the strike of a daedroth, and leaping over the fallen bodies of a clannfear and scamp. I made it to the wall and grabbed the rope, beginning to climb up. I heard a roar behind me, and glanced back to see the daedroth from before charging me. I looked up again and struggled to make time, but my muscles ached from the dremora's lightning, and I'd never been a very good climber anyway. There was a whistling sound, and the dremora bellowed behind me. I glanced back to see it clawing at a pair of arrows that had pierced its shoulders. Another pair of arrows lanced down, and it roared again.

"Champion, climb!"

I looked up to see Right-Wind and Bumph gra-Gash, both of the Bruma Fighters Guild chapter, and a Bruma guardsman staring down at me. Right-Wind held a bow in his hands, as did the Bruma guardsman beside him. Bumph grabbed the rope and began hauling me up. I struggled harder to climb. Magic flashed my way several times during the climb up, but nothing hit me, and soon enough, I was hauled over the ramparts, where I collapsed onto my hands and knees.

"Here, drink this."

Bumph put a bottle to my lips, and the bitter taste of healing potion flowed through me, easing my wounds and invigorating my limbs.

"Thanks," I said, wiping my lips and handing the bottle back. Right-Wind's bow hummed beside me.

"Thank _you_, Champion," the Orc replied. "We thought they'd just keep coming with that gate open!"

I smiled and nodded, rising to my feet.

The daedra were routed by the time the sun set. With the destruction of the gate, many of them seemed to lose morale, some of them even fleeing into the oncoming darkness when it became clear their siege was to fail. Right-Wind had shared his stock of arrows with me, and, for the first time in many years, my hands ached with the stress of drawing and releasing arrow after arrow once I'd finally put up my bow and given them chance to rest. There had been casualties, yes. Daedra had gotten inside the city by climbing over the walls, but it was nothing compared to Kvatch. When the last daedra fled, a cheer rose up amongst us, and I added my voice to the call.

"We did it!" Right-Wind yelled, his Argonian teeth flashing in the last rays of the sun.

"Take that, you Oblivion bastards!" Bumph shouted after them, raising her bow above her head in victory.

"Sara! _Sara_!"

I turned to see Baurus making his way towards me, a face splitting grin on his face as he squeezed by defenders cheering, hugging, and otherwise celebrating our victory. I smiled back at him with a smile so large my cheeks protested, turning to face him. _He's alive._

"Oh, thank Talos you're alive!" he said, and then he scooped me up and held me in a hug.

"I'm alive? What about you?" I said, my voice coloured by laughter I couldn't suppress. The memory of my worry in Oblivion touched the corner of my mind. He released me and I stared up at him, hands on his arms. "I didn't think anyone could survive that many daedra!"

"The same could be said for you," he replied. His gaze softened and his voice lowered. "I had to survive, Sara. You were coming back." He raised a gloved hand to touch my cheek. I gazed up at him, the smile slowly fading from my lips.

_Baurus…_

"There you are!"

I blinked, startled by call, and Baurus let his hand drop, a mask of professionalism dropping over his face as he stepped back, turning to face the new speaker. It was Burd, captain of Bruma's guard. He strode towards us, purposeful and strong. As I neared, I noticed that his eyebrows and eyelashes had been singed off.

"You two!" he said. He stopped by us and grabbed our hands, raising them above our heads. "Three cheers for the heroes of Bruma!"

Around us the defenders burst into a chorus of cheers.

It was many more than three.


End file.
